


Renascent

by TottWriter



Series: Trinacriform [2]
Category: Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-22 07:49:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 72,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7426339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TottWriter/pseuds/TottWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ken has always known about the seed in his neck, and he’s used it to its utmost potential in the furthering of his ambitions. It seemed the perfect tool - until he repented of his time as the Digimon Kaiser, and was left to face the far-reaching and seemingly permanent consequences of his actions. And yet, redemption awaits in the unlikeliest of places…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

  

> _renascent - adjective: being reborn; springing again into being or vigour_

 

Frankly, capturing Takeru and his partner had been so easy it was almost insulting. No, forget ‘almost’ - it _was_ insulting. Deeply. _These_ were his opponents? After months of thwarting his plans, all it had taken was a simple act of misdirection, and they had scattered to his false distress signals. Scuttling off on their would-be rescue missions like the brainless insects they were. And of course, by themselves they were easy pickings. Pathetic.

His mood was soured even further by the fact that it was the blond who had attended the signal where the trap was located, and not the ever-irritating Motomiya. All that effort, and he’d wound up with a second-rate prize. Still. He would do.

The Kaiser watched the others reunite from his monitor room, waiting for the oh-so-satisfying moment they realised they were one down. It certainly took them long enough. Something to mention to his bargaining chip when he had a moment. At least there was some passing amusement to be had in letting him know he was so easily forgotten.

The rectangular device he had confiscated from Takeru along with his digivice lit up, and he flipped it open to read a succession of messages requesting that he contact his friends. Well. Time to put a stop to that.

 _::Your friend will not be returning all the while my demands are unmet. Surrender your digivices and digimon, and concede defeat to the Digimon Kaiser::_  

Of course, with Motomiya still on the loose he knew there was very little chance they would accept his offer. No doubt they would attempt a rescue - multiple rescues - before even _considering_ that they had lost. Certainly they had before, and that had only been for a _digimon_. If they got so worked up over a few disposable lines of computer code, doubtless they’d pull out all the stops for a friend of theirs.

How utterly irksome. 

Rescue parties would be even more of an inconvenience than their usual disturbances. He had absolutely no intention of putting up with that sort of nonsense. But - particularly as Motomiya was still around to infect them with his witless determination - his demands alone would not be enough. No. It would take something more to convince them of the futility of their resistance. 

The idea had been in the back of his mind - he allowed himself a slight smile at the unintentional joke - for some time now. He wasn’t sure _precisely_ when the thought had first occurred to him, but it couldn’t have been long after he first realised the irritating tenacity of his opponents. Now, in a way it seemed an inevitability. That it had been intended since the fateful email had arrived, proclaiming that the seed in his neck provided him with unlimited potential, should he but tap into it. That it would be the ultimate demonstration of his tactical supremacy. 

In his early days as Kaiser, he had experienced momentary self-doubt - were his accomplishments lessened by the assistance of the seed? Well, mastery of it would prove beyond certainty where the credit was due. It was a tool for him to use and _exploit_ , not a crutch. And really, it had been a simple matter to copy it, and make the necessary alterations to its structure. 

And what better motivation for those…those _insects_ to leave his world, than one of their own friends instructing them to do so in person?

 

* * *

 

Everything was going perfectly until Takeru screamed. 

He’d expected some sort of reaction, and screaming was one of the possibilities he had accounted for - certainly there had been enough of _that_ over the last few days. Still, those earlier screams had been filled with rage and frustration. Entirely expected, really. Didn’t all caged animals rail against captivity? 

But the scream which erupted after he pressed the transfer device to the back of the boy’s neck, silencing his petty protests…that wasn’t a scream of fury, or anger, or even fear. It was pain - pure, unadulterated agony, and it shook him to the core.

“What…what’s going on?” he cried, as though _Wormmon_ would know. But it had been Wormmon - his useless, pathetic assistant - who had been so unusually outspoken against this plan. And as he asked again, he belatedly realised he wasn’t really asking the little digimon _anyway_. He was thinking out loud, wondering what in all the worlds was happening to his captive. 

Takeru was convulsing; straining against the restraints on his arms and legs. Something about him was _changing_ , too. Not enough to be particularly noticeable any more, but in those first few seconds it had washed out over the boy like a wave, turning his skin an almost imperceptible shade greyer. 

This was _not_ part of his plan. 

The screams continued for an almost eternal ninety-three seconds, and then stopped. Abruptly. Somehow, the silence was even worse. 

For the first time in as long as he could clearly remember, he felt a sliver of uncertainty about what he was doing. The motionless body in front of him was deeply unnerving, and all of a sudden he realised he wasn’t _entirely_ sure what he expected the seed to have done. Certainly it would force Takeru to ally with himself, but… there was something of a haze in his mind over the exact method by which it was supposed to have achieved this. 

“Is that it?” he wondered aloud. “Is it over now?” 

Takeru’s eyes snapped open, and the boy looked directly at him. There wasn’t even a trace of fear in his expression. They stared at each other for what felt like forever, although the security feed later confirmed that it had only been twenty-six seconds. Then Takeru smirked. 

“Well?” Takeru said, quite calmly. “Are you going to release me, or do I have to ask your snivelling _partner_ instead?” 

The Kaiser scowled, forcing his uncertainties into the deepest recesses of his mind.

“If you think me careless enough to do that straight away, you are even more foolish than I had believed,” he snapped. _He_ was the one in control here. Former prisoners did not get to dictate terms. 

The smirk didn’t waver for a moment. “I might have thought you confident in your _own plan_ ,” Takeru remarked, far calmer than anyone strapped to a table had a right to be. “But feel free to be a coward if it helps.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, technically this is a companion piece, but I'm going to go right ahead and say that you really don't need to have read Metanoia to understand anything going on here. In fact, in some respects it's more the other way around - Metanoia will probably be a lot less of a mind screw if you read it second.


	2. Creeping Doubts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has an accompaniment in the form of a five page comic by the hugely talented [FaiTakeruSachiko](http://ftsartblog.tumblr.com/post/147097281653/renascent-fic-written-by-the-talented). Be sure to check it out! Chills, man. CHILLS.

They had been allies for a week, and the plan was already something he was coming to regret. It wasn’t that Takeru was an irritating companion - quite the reverse, in fact. The blond conveniently preferred to keep to himself when they were not discussing plans. He found that he didn’t even particularly mind that they were no longer solely _his_ plans. There was a synchronicity to their intentions thanks to the effect of the copied seed, after all, and he could justify Takeru’s initiative as merely a result of his own genius.

Then, too, there was the fact that Takeru’s allegiance with him seemed to have scattered their would-be opponents. Exactly as he had planned. The number of dark towers being destroyed or disabled had greatly diminished, at the same time that their construction had sped up. On paper - and when he reasoned with himself - he knew that what he had accomplished was a perfect success.

And yet…and yet…

Somehow he couldn’t shift an uncomfortable nagging sensation, faint but persistent, that it had all been something of a mistake. A ghost of a feeling which had only grown stronger in the wake of the news coverage about Takeru’s disappearance. They had both seen the missing persons report together, with Takeru wearing that unfaltering smirk of his while he watched his family make half-hearted pleas for him to come home. Half-hearted because, unlike his own family, these _three_ knew exactly where the person in question was.

He hadn’t known that Takeru was the younger of two brothers.

Somehow he’d missed the resemblance, on that solitary occasion he had actually seen the older blond in the digital world. Perhaps he had simply refused to acknowledge it, in the same way that Takeru refused to discuss anything prior to his newfound allegiance. And there was no logical reason why it ought to bother him, anyway. But it did. Takeru had an older brother, and while Yamato’s pleas for him to come home had been forced, there had been nothing artificial about the pain in the boy’s face as he spoke.

Meanwhile, Takeru carried out their plans with the same calculated, sinister cheer he had exhibited since that first day. Always smirking. Always ready to turn his opponents’ weaknesses against them with the perfect cutting retort. Always relentlessly confident in himself, to the point where he had begun to act first and explain his motivations afterwards. Their discussions were rapidly becoming debriefings, ones which challenged him to match Takeru’s drive and accomplishments.

It was good - they were making a lot of progress. But the change was also more than a little unnerving. If he were honest, he hadn’t paid Takeru all that much attention beforehand. He’d simply been one among several nuisances. Even Motomiya was only notable thanks to the _clearly_ accidental humiliation he had inflicted in that soccer game. Still, he didn’t need to know them _well_ to know they were deluded enough to care for the data-based creatures found in the digital world. Now, Takeru seemed to be acting with an equal level of passion in his efforts to enslave them. It ought to have been satisfying, but it wasn’t.

Unbidden, a tiny voice inside him suggested that this was going beyond a mere game. Beyond victory or defeat, or proving himself. The longer Takeru’s charade continued, the more he began to see that it was no mere act. It was not the dedication of someone committed wholly to their team. Overnight - faster, in fact, because he had security footage which attested that the whole thing had taken less than five minutes - he had engineered a total personality shift.

It was an impressive feat, true. And a large part of him revelled in his own genius - of _course_ he could alter another person! What else where such insects for, but to be shaped to fit his ideal? But that voice in his head was seldom alone. Increasingly, it was set against a part of him which could not forget the look on Yamato’s face during that news report. Which remembered the scream.

And he had plenty of time to stew on these thoughts, because while he had always preferred a supervisory role - watching his subservients, and collating information from the comfort of his base - Takeru had a very different approach to things.

 

* * *

 

He had put a lot of time into studying the digimon which inhabited the world. Although he might not have _seen_ each variation in person, he’d made sure to research his opponents and the forms their partners took. The information he had gathered informed him that Patamon’s ordinary evolution was not that of a flying horse, but into Angemon - some sort of angel-type digimon.

Of course, he had yet to actually see this evolution. In the initial aftermath of Takeru’s… _conversion_ , he’d kept Patamon securely confined in a cell, controlled by a dark spiral to ensure there were no escape attempts. He had expected Takeru’s first demand upon being released to be that he was reunited with the little digimon, but the blond hadn’t even _mentioned_ his partner for the first few days. When the subject finally came up, he’d complacently suggested that they leave the dark spiral in place.

“Are you sure?” he’d asked his new ally. There had never been a need to control Wormmon - a dark ring or spiral might have put a stop to some of the digimon’s more irritating behaviours, but it would also have suppressed a rather useful degree of initiative. Releasing Patamon had seemed a relatively benign gesture to foster Takeru’s goodwill.

Takeru had shrugged, half his attention on a monitor. “He’s not as docile as Wormmon. I don’t see the point in letting him loose when there’s every chance he would simply attempt to escape, so that he could betray our location to the others. Frankly, it’s a hassle I’d rather do without.”

He’d looked around then, and fixed him with the amused, calculating expression that never left his face. “But you can have him sent up to my quarters, if you like. No doubt the others are wondering what’s happened to him, and it’s about time they had a reminder of how serious I am. A few rumoured sightings will be effective enough.”

At the time, his surprise had been simply that Takeru believed such a simple plan was worth the effort and risk of exposing the little digimon. And, admittedly, at the audacity of suggesting he take Patamon into a situation in which the digimon might plausibly be released from the dark spiral - immediately after announcing that Patamon’s loyalty could not be counted on.

It was only a little later that it occurred to him how much Takeru’s attitude towards his partner was another marked shift in personality. Of course, it could be put down to the seed’s ability to help its bearer see things more rationally and concisely. Even so, he had to admit that he’d expected Takeru to have a lingering fondness for the creature. It had its benefits, after all. Unlike Wormmon, it could actually evolve into something _useful_.

Instead, the blond was content to ride one of the many Airdramon, and command the armies of controlled digimon which they were amassing. And although Takeru’s digivice and the unusual rectangular device which he had called a “D-Terminal” had been returned to him, the latter apparently remained in his quarters, and Takeru only took his partner with him on a few expeditions - those during school hours when he was certain not to run into anyone human.

He was a trifle irritated by that. There was no question in his mind that the morale-damaging effects of Takeru attacking his former allies with his own partner would have been substantial. The MetalGreymon incident had demonstrated that they seemed to find it difficult to attack digimon they had developed an emotional attachment to, after all. And yet, it was impossible to rebuke Takeru for that fault. The pathetic creatures had crumbled anyway.

And then, haunting his thoughts, was that quiet uncertainty about everything. A weakness which had to be controlled and eliminated - and concealed from his new, zealous ally at all costs. Despite his apparent cheer, there was a sinister undertone to Takeru’s attitude which hinted that he would be as ruthless with his allies as his enemies, should he feel the need.

As the days went by, he realised with increasing concern that he was acting in a _defensive_ manner. That the balance of power was shifting - had shifted already - and that somehow he couldn’t muster quite the same enthusiasm for his task that he had felt before forcibly converting Takeru to his side.

He began to wonder, too, what he had planned to do _after_ he achieved total control of the digital world. He’d known before, hadn’t he? It had all seemed so clear in his mind, and now there were unacceptable gaps. Doubts. Disgraceful signs of cowardice and folly which seemed to grow back no matter how hard he stamped them down. What was _wrong_ with him? He was the Digimon Kaiser, wasn’t he? This was _his_ plan; _his_ empire. So why, all of a sudden, were his victories less satisfying? And why did the constant, borderline unnatural smirk on Takeru’s face make him feel so uneasy?

 

* * *

 

They were back. The monitors had them in full view - they weren’t even bothering to conceal themselves. Nine of them, all together. Only the girl with pink hair was missing. Hiding somewhere perhaps, as part of a plan that _wasn’t_ simply to charge in all together? It wouldn’t pay for them to assume their foes really were as stupid as their actions suggested.

“She’ll be asleep,” Takeru remarked casually, when he mentioned his suspicions. “She lives in America, after all. I expect the plan will be to destroy enough towers that the remainder of their digimon can evolve, and then wait for us to show up so they can overwhelm us.”

The blond smiled. “A good thing they came in so close to where we are - apparently the tracking beacon on the base worked. We’ll get there before they do any real damage, wouldn’t you say?”

He felt his brows start to rise with shock - _what beacon?_ \- and forced them back into a frown.

“I don’t recall authorising you to give away the location of my base,” he snapped. Anger was far safer than worry.

Takeru’s smirk widened. “I don’t recall needing your permission for my other successes, either. What’s the matter? Still don’t trust me? Or are you just starting to get envious of my victories?” He leaned forward in his chair, steely eyes glinting dangerously. “It must be hard for you, knowing that you’re outclassed. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you holding back these last few days. And don’t think _I’ll_ hold back if you get cold feet. You wanted this, remember?”

Ken fought to keep his face level, or at least look irritated and not unnerved. Takeru’s appearance had changed during his transformation, but it wasn’t until that moment that he realised how very inhuman Takeru’s eyes had become. They _had_ been blue, hadn’t they? Now that colour was faded almost to grey, shot through with fine black and red tendrils.

“Don’t lecture _me_ ,” Ken said, forcing his thoughts into line. What did it matter how Takeru’s eyes looked? This was about _winning_ , wasn’t it? “I _gave_ you this power.”

Takeru’s smirk deepened. “Some, yes. But not all of it. The rest was inside me the whole time.” He stood, and sauntered over to the door. “Now, I think I’ll go fetch Patamon. It seems we finally have an audience worthy of a good show.”

 

* * *

 

He watched the encounter from the monitors, telling himself it was because he didn’t want their base left vulnerable, and not because he was reluctant to spend any more time around Takeru than strictly necessary. There was no rational reason for him to feel that way, after all. The transformation was _his_ doing - his crowning achievement. Shouldn’t he be proud? He…he was the Digimon Kaiser, after all. Superior in every way to the rag-tag bunch assembled down there, busily smashing the clusters of towers he and Takeru had planted on the landscape.

Or, more accurately, the towers he had paid little attention to, save to tally his totals, and which _Takeru_ had arranged in thick clusters. He looked at the readings on the monitor. They were gathered around a beacon which he realised was not attached to their base at all, although the signal it gave out suggested it was, even to the monitors _inside_ the base. It was a trap. Laid out to ensnare the others, and Takeru had planted it alone - skillfully enough that he himself had fallen for it.

It occurred to him that Takeru would have no reservations whatsoever about betraying him. For the first time, he allowed himself to consider the possibility that what he had created was a _rival_ , and not an ally. But…that was impossible, wasn’t it? He had been so sure of his actions. He’d carefully plotted each and every adjustment to the copied seed - except that, now, he realised that he couldn’t _entirely_ remember what those changes had been. It was as though a veil were drawing itself over his memory, making the details fade or blur.

Scowling, he brought Takeru’s image up on the monitor, determined not to let the blond out of his sight. If Takeru _did_ intend a betrayal, he would be hard-pressed  to succeed. By leaving Ken in control of the base, the boy had put himself at a substantial disadvantage.

On a whim, only half aware of his actions, Ken brought up a replay of the news footage from the night before. The missing persons investigation had escalated; someone had connected Takeru’s disappearance with his own. The report included photographs of them both. He froze the footage as it displayed Takeru’s face, and tried to ignore the rising sense of bile in his throat.

His own appearance had not markedly changed, save for a few stylistic freedoms which this world offered. He had the same dark hair and deep blue, almost violet eyes he had always possessed. Takeru, on the other hand, was scarcely recognisable. The boy in the photo had a cheerful, carefree expression, with bright blue eyes and golden hair. The Takeru who had sauntered out of the room was muted and grey by comparison; his skin dull, and his hair missing its former lustre. Takeru’s eyes might have been the most noticeable change, but they were far from the only one.

What had he done? What had happened to the boy in that photo?

He frowned the disturbing thought away. This wasn’t the time for doubts. He couldn’t _afford_ them. Looking back at the monitor following his ally/rival, he watched the Airdramon Takeru was riding circle the group on the ground. The four who could had already evolved their partners, and stood in a guard position around the other five. Takeru had been right - they hadn’t had time to clear all the towers. The five older children would be no opposition at all. To judge by the anxious expressions on their faces, they knew it.

Steepling his fingers, he leant forward in his chair. This promised to be interesting, at least. Takeru didn’t appear to have taken any backup beyond those additional two Airdramon and his partner - although of course, this close to their base there wasn’t much need to worry. He could summon plenty more assistance should he require it. And with only three Airdramon and an Angemon to take on his former friends, he would have to, surely? Angemon were strongest against Virus types - which none of his former allies possessed. He was at a type disadvantage.

Somehow, though, Ken doubted that Takeru intended to call for backup. If the last few days had taught him anything, it was that Takeru had an extensive knowledge of the digital world which rivalled his own. In some areas, he was forced to admit, Takeru’s knowledge outstripped him altogether. What was he planning?

He didn’t have long to wait for an answer. The voices that were transmitted to his control room sounded a little tinny, but he could hear what was going on perfectly clearly:

“I see you got my message!” Takeru announced cheerfully. Although he had his back to the screen, Ken could almost see the broad, empty smile. “Such a pity you didn’t read the part where I warned you it was a trap. Did you think I was bluffing? Helping you, perhaps? Honestly, I expect this level of stupidity from Daisuke, but I’m pretty sure you know better than this Koushiro.”

“Takeru, _stop_ this!” wailed the girl Ken recognised as Hikari.

“Of course!” Takeru said, spreading his arms wide. “I won’t need to bother again after today, will I?”

“Look, Takeru, just come down here and we’ll talk about this,” said one of the older ones. A tall boy with dark hair and glasses. Ken recognised him, but couldn’t recall his name.

“I think I’ll stay here, actually. There’s going to be a much better view of your total defeat.” He reached down to his belt and unclipped his digivice. “Last chance to surrender.”

It seemed to Ken that the reaction of the others was far out of proportion, even had they been aware of the fact Takeru was in easy reach of backup. They recoiled, their expressions horrified - then surged forward to attack.

“ _Stop him!_ ” someone shrieked, but in the chaos he couldn’t tell who it was.

Holsmon had taken to the air, with Nefertimon close behind. They homed in on the Airdramon carrying Takeru, ducking the shots from the two on either side. Even Tentomon and Piyomon were flying in to fight, although they were pitifully underpowered. A barrage of attacks from the ground-based digimon pounded ineffectually against the Airdramon from below, serving only to make Takeru snort derisively.

Lighdramon darted forward, using some of the fallen towers as launch points. He sprang from a relatively upright spire and managed to grab hold of the central Airdramon where Takeru and Patamon stood. It lurched in the air, and even as Lighdramon’s attack shattered the dark spiral around Patamon, Takeru lost his balance.

Ken cried out in reflexive shock. He stood up so fast that his chair fell back with a clatter. This couldn’t be happening! Patamon was free, and even as he watched, Takeru’s Airdramon bucked, throwing both Lighdramon and Takeru from its back. He’d _lost?_

White light flared from Takeru’s digivice, then flickered to red with a shrill screech that drowned out all other sounds from the monitors. Ken flinched, covering his ears, and saw the small shapes of the other children doing the same. Patamon was engulfed in a bright aura of ugly, garish colours which gave way to a deep purple glow.

The digimon which emerged was most definitely _not_ Angemon.

A black hand on an impossibly long arm whipped out and caught Takeru, before its owner flew higher on bat-like, tattered wings. It set Takeru down on the recovered Airdramon, then turned to their foes as Ken watched on, too stunned to move. He knew he ought to recognise the digimon Patamon had evolved into, but his mind seemed to have locked up just as much as his body. What was going _on?_

With its very first attack, it took out all four of its airborne opponents. Two of the older children cried out in panic as their partners devolved in mid-air, while Holsmon and Nefertimon held on to their evolutions just long enough to crash land among the broken spires.

Lighdramon caught the falling digimon and raced them back to the group as Ken’s momentary blank lifted. He realised who this new digimon was - _Devimon_. But how was that possible?

His train of thought was derailed by the sound of frantic conversation, clearer over the monitors than it likely was even for the people at the scene.

“We have to get out of here,” Taichi said. “That… we can’t _fight_ him like this. They’ll be destroyed!”

Daisuke stared up at the figure stood above them, then nodded. “We’ll distract him,” he cried, leaping onto Lighdramon’s back. “You get the others and head for the portal. We’ll take a longer route and meet you there.”

The pair raced away from their friends, drawing the attacks with them. The others had already retrieved their partners and bolted in the opposite direction - all save Yamato, who seemed frozen to the spot, his face a mask of horror and despair. He moved only when Taichi grabbed his arm and _dragged_ him towards the portal.

And Takeru stood on his Airdramon watching them retreat, laughing.

 

* * *

 

The sight of his opponents making a full retreat ought to have brought him nothing but satisfaction. He was dimly aware of that thought - a sort of murmur in the back of his mind that this was a victory - but it was hard to focus on that when the rest of him was filled with dread.

Takeru had _known_ . He must have - had to have been sure of it when he set out. Which meant that he’d known _before_ that too. How long had he been waiting to pull that sort of move? More importantly, what _exactly_ had he done? Ken was sure he’d done his research right, and that Patamon evolved into Angemon. So why had he evolved into Devimon instead - and how could Takeru have predicted something like that?

_This is wrong_ , he thought suddenly. He wasn’t sure why, but once the thought was there it wouldn’t leave him. It _was_ wrong. All of it - the base, the plan, Takeru - _especially_ Takeru. A vision of grey eyes shot through with black and red filled his mind, and before he was really aware of what he was doing, Ken had walked swiftly out of his control room, with Wormmon tagging along behind.

“Where are we _going_ , Ken?” the digimon asked.

He didn’t slow down, or even bother to answer. The one thought he had room for in his head was that he didn’t want to be there when Takeru got back. Didn’t want to stare into those dark, empty eyes again. He was vaguely aware that he’d made some sort of terrible mistake, but for the moment, it didn’t really matter what it actually was. He just had to get out of there, before Takeru turned Devimon on _him_ as well.

 

* * *

 

His reflection stared at him from the blank screen of the television. Now that he was here, his doubts had spread. Going back to the real world seemed an option little better than staying put. He halted, frozen with both indecision and shock at the realisation that he didn’t know what to do.

“Ken?” Wormmon asked.

“Don’t call-”

He stopped, staring down at the little Digimon. Ken…that _was_ his name. And hearing it, as he looked out past his reflection to his abandoned bedroom, he felt a strong and sudden pang of homesickness.

He gripped his digivice tightly in his hand and held out his arm, letting the portal pull him out of the digital world and away from what he was sure was the worst mistake he had ever made.

 


	3. No Going Back

The first thing his mother did when she saw him was scream. He was dimly aware that, just a few days earlier, his reaction would have been one of annoyance and irritation. As it was he could only stand there feeling empty, as she ran over and wrapped her arms around him, holding him close and crying into his shoulder.

He knew that his actions didn’t make sense - he hadn’t seen his parents in weeks, and now he was back, with no explanation for where he had been or _how_ he had returned, and with only blank stares for his family when they expressed their joys that he was safe. His _feelings_ didn’t make sense either. He was neither irritated at the fuss they were making, nor happy to see them again, and to be welcomed home. He didn’t feel anything at _all_.

The afternoon went past in fits and starts. One minute the clock seemed to move with exaggerated slowness, and the next he would look up to find that half an hour had passed without his noticing. He stayed seated on the sofa, staring blankly out of the window at the sky.

The police arrived to interview him, and ask what he knew of his disappearance. He didn’t move, or meet their eyes. What could he tell them? What would they believe? More importantly, what did he actually want everyone to know? What did _he_ know?

The police officer they had sent to interview him was a young woman, smartly dressed. She asked her questions kindly, which made it easier for him to bluff some excuses - mostly that he had no memory of what had happened, that he wasn’t sure where he had been, and had no idea how long he’d been gone. Flat denial seemed the safest bet, and then-

“And now, I know this might be a long shot, but I have to ask. Do you remember seeing anyone else? A boy, about your age, with blond hair?”

He froze, feeling the colour drain from his face.

“A…a boy?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, I know this must be difficult, but if you do know anything it would be a great help. Here—I have a photograph. Do you know this boy?”

She held up the picture, and Ken felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. Blue eyes set in a face wreathed with golden hair stared back at him from a sheet of paper.

“No,” he found himself saying weakly, and realised that it was true. “I don’t…I don’t know him at all.”

 

* * *

 

By the time his parents had retreated to their bedroom, it was gone midnight. They had let him stay in the living room, wrapped in blankets on the sofa, and left their own bedroom door open. Dimly, he suspected that they didn’t especially want to take their eyes off him in case he disappeared again. It had taken some gentle insistence from his father to get his mother to go to bed at all.

His bedroom door opened a crack, and a small figure peeped into the room.

“Ken?”

He watched his partner, not moving.

“…Wormmon?” he said at last, his voice barely more than a murmur.

The little digimon hopped over, and jumped up onto the sofa beside him. They sat together in silence for a few minutes.

“I thought it might all go away if I came home,” Ken said softly. He didn’t look at his partner. “But I can’t stop thinking about it all. I can’t get that place out of my head. And…Takeru… He won’t stop, will he? He won’t go home to his family.”

“I don’t know,” Wormmon replied.

He screwed his eyes up tightly, and put his head in his hands.

“It’s like a nightmare,” he said. “A bad dream I just can’t wake up from. It can’t… It wasn’t _real_ . None of it was! But now I’m home, and he’s not. And… and _you’re_ here. What…what did I _do?_ ”

The first wave of emotions hit him then; a rush of regret and fear which overwhelmed him. Victory and conquest had never meant so little - it _wasn’t_ a game. It was real, all of it. He choked back the first sob, but the second and third were too much, and moments later the tears were in full flood.

Movement at his parents’ door signalled the arrival of his mother, roused from sleep by the sounds of his misery. She sat beside him and wrapped her arms tightly about his shoulders, hugging him fiercely.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “You’re home. You’re safe now. Everything’s going to be alright.”

Ken sobbed in near-silent misery. It wasn’t alright. Nothing was. How could it be, after the things he’d done?

 

* * *

 

Three days passed. The media circus came and went; flashing cameras and eager news reporters tired of waiting around for the ‘child prodigy’ to emerge from his room, and moved on to the next big story.

He didn’t speak to anyone. Not to his parents; not to the police; not even to Wormmon, who sat quietly on the end of his bed. He picked at his food now and then, but gave most of it to his partner - Wormmon was _real_ , and he’d treated the little digimon so badly that it only seemed fair to try and make it up to him any way he could now. He couldn’t bring himself to eat much anyway.

The quiet knock at his door wasn’t enough to rouse him from the stupor of self-loathing he had sunk into, but the message she delivered as she opened it made him flinch.

“Ken, dear, you have visitors.”

He looked up, and immediately wished he hadn’t. Stood behind his mother were none other than Daisuke Motomiya and Hikari Yagami. He froze. Their faces were calm and solemn, but how long would that last? Surely it was an act to get past his mother? And how had they convinced her to let them in?

“Well, I’ll let you three talk,” his mother said, backing away.

She ushered the two in, and closed the door. With a sinking feeling, Ken realised she probably hoped they were friends, and that a social visit would cheer him up.

He wanted to disappear again, this time for real. To vanish into nothingness and never have to face anything again. But there was no escape - not even to the digital world, because he was high on his bed, and would never make it to the computer in time. Besides. The mess there was even _worse_.

“Why’d you come home then?” Daisuke asked bluntly. “Takeru beat you up too, once he was done with us?”

Ken flinched. Takeru’s face loomed easily enough in his mind as it was, without reminders.

“What did you do to him?” Hikari asked. There was a quiet desperation in her voice which cut far deeper than Daisuke’s anger.

“I…” He stopped, trying to find the words. He owed them an explanation, but the more he tried to think about his actions, the less sense any of it made. “I don’t _know_. I didn’t mean for any of this, I-”

“Well you sure meant for _something_ ,” Daisuke snapped. “And now, what, you got bored so you went home? When does Takeru go home? When does whatever you did to him wear off?”

“Please, just let him _go_ ,” Hikari said, not even bothering to disguise her tears. “You _changed_ him. Was it a ring? A spiral? Take it off - or at least tell us how to turn him back.”

He felt sick. What had he done? What had he _done?_ He didn’t know how to put it right - he barely even knew what he’d been thinking when it had all happened any more. All the brilliance of his plans seemed folly and madness. Changing a person? Shaping their will to his own? What kind of monster _was_ he? How could he ever look anyone in the eye again?

“I…I don’t know how.” He kept his eyes downward, fixed on the mattress beneath him.

“So what, you get to go back to normal and Takeru can rot in the digital world?” Daisuke exclaimed. “What kinda sicko _are_ you?”

“It wasn’t his fault!” Wormmon said, hopping up onto the bedframe. The pair jumped. Apparently they hadn’t expected to see anyone but Ken. “It was that seed making him do all those things! Ken isn’t like that at all.”

Ken stared at his partner, sure he must be just as shocked as the other two.

“What are you talking about?” Hikari said.

“It’s okay, Wormmon,” Ken said wretchedly. “You don’t have to try and defend me. I know that what I did was wrong.”

“But it’s true! You never would have done any of it if that seed hadn’t been affecting you. It changed you, and then when you used it on Takeru he changed too!”

For a moment, there was silence.

“Seed? What’s that then?” Daisuke asked.

Ken swallowed heavily, but it was Wormmon who answered.

“It stuck in his neck a long time ago, and then when he came back to the digital world he was different. It was a copy of the seed that made Takeru change, too.”

“And this seed…it’s…it’s still there?” Hikari asked, shooting Ken a worried glance.

Wormmon nodded. “But Ken is much more like himself now. As soon as he realised what he was doing he went back to normal!”

“Sounds a little fishy to me,” Daisuke said. “But if this is all we’ve got to go on… _uugh_. Look. Ken, we came her for two reasons. First off, to knock some sense into you if you needed it. Well, it seems to me like you got a dose of that yourself. I can’t say you look like you’re still bent on conquering the digital world.”

Ken shuddered.

“Right. Well, the second reason we came back here is this. Much as I hate to say it, we need your help. Whatever you did to Takeru, it’s not rubbing off just yet, and he holes up in that base of yours and vanishes whenever it looks like we’re getting close.”

“You have a chance to put some of this right, Ken,” Hikari said. “Please. Help us get him back. You’re the only one who knows what happened to him, and you’re the only one who can get us into that base. You _made_ it.”

Ken stared at them both. He didn’t want to think about the Digital world ever again. He couldn’t imagine anything worse than going back there after all the harm he’d done. The prospect of returning even _once_ more made him feel sick. But how could he refuse? It was his fault that Takeru was missing. _He_ was responsible. How could he live with himself if he didn’t try and put things right?

“I’ll help,” he said at last. “There’s…I have a gate which leads into the base itself. It’s programmed to only be accessible from my computer.”

Daisuke frowned. “But won’t Takeru have shut it off, or destroyed it?”

Ken shook his head. “I don’t think he knows it’s there. I didn’t ever mention it, and it’s tucked out of the way. He… he didn’t spend a lot of time in the base.”

“He still doesn’t,” Hikari said, her voice bitter. “And he’s hurting so many digimon. We have to stop him, fast. Can you reprogramme that gate so it opens from a different computer?”

 

* * *

 

Ken was a little surprised at how happy his mother seemed when he asked if a couple more people would be allowed to visit so he could “catch up on schoolwork”. She welcomed the newcomers the next day with a cheerful smile, and offered them cups of tea and snacks for them to eat while they were studying. The social niceties were all the more excruciating for their abrupt end as his bedroom door finally closed behind her.

“How can we trust you?” Miyako asked, her arms folded. “You could be sending us into a trap.”

Ken hung his head. What could he say to convince her? What right did he have to even try?

“Well, I believe him.” The speaker was the older boy who had introduced himself as Koushiro. He was already looking at something on Ken’s computer. “You forget, I can read digicode. This gate isn’t one I’ve seen before, and it’s moving. It leads to the base, and Takeru’s D3 isn’t near it right now. We have to take this chance.”

“Can we really go _now?_ ” Hikari asked. “What if Ken’s mother comes in and finds the room empty?”

“She won’t.” Ken stood, and walked over to the door. “I can lock us in.”

Koushiro nodded, although the others looked a little worried. “If you’re sure that won’t cause problems?”

Ken shook his head. He didn’t trust himself to say much more in front of everyone. The hostile expression on Miyako’s face was more than enough to silence him.

There was silence for a few minutes as Koushiro pulled out a laptop and worked diligently at something. At last, he sat back, sighing.

“Right. I’ve accessed Taichi’s computer remotely and set up the gate in his room. The others will meet us in the digital world once I message them to say that we’ve arrived safely, because their partners won’t be able to evolve until we can take out the power in the base. Ken - you’re sure we can get to the generator before Takeru returns?”

Ken nodded. He just wanted this over with.

“Then I think we’d best go now, while we can.”

The gate flashed up on the screen. Ken held Wormmon tightly as he gripped his digivice, and let himself be pulled back to the last place in any world he wanted to see.

 

* * *

 

It was quiet. That was a good sign - his private entrance was on the upper floors, tucked in a side-corridor that Takeru was unlikely to use. If no guards had been posted up here, it suggested that it had gone unnoticed.

The others, whether consciously or not, spread out around him - Daisuke and Hikari walked forward to monitor the corridor ahead of them, while Miyako and Koushiro hung back, standing between him and the gate. Regardless of their intent it left him in the middle, with no easy escape in any direction. He felt trapped; hemmed in by the very walls he had constructed himself.

Wormmon waited by his side. The others hadn’t said anything before moving to their respective positions. It wasn’t just that they didn’t trust him enough to discuss plans in front of him, although he suspected that was the case. There was also too much danger that Takeru was monitoring the base from afar. No one believed that he would really leave the place entirely unguarded.

A flash from the gate made him wince, and take a step back towards Daisuke and Hikari. The others had arrived.

None of them looked happy to see him stood there, but Yamato looked murderous. He lurched forward, only to be grabbed by one of his friends, who twisted the blond’s arm and held him back.

“Let go of me, Taichi.” Yamato snapped. “This is the…the _monster_ who hurt my brother!”

Ken hung his head and screwed his eyes shut, feeling sick.

“Look, we _just_ talked about this,” Taichi said, his voice quieter but no less tense. “We’re here _for_ Takeru. Not revenge. You think punching out the only person who knows their way around this place is gonna help? Plus, just _look_ at him! Maybe there’s something in this seed theory, maybe there isn’t. But he sure doesn’t look like he always has in the past.”

Ken froze, not sure what to say or do. What did they mean about him looking different? He opened his eyes and looked down at his clothes, surprised to see the grey material of his school uniform. He hadn’t even noticed the difference until it was pointed out.

Koushiro cleared his throat. “We probably don’t have a lot of time, Yamato. We should get to the generator and shut off the power that’s preventing our partners from evolving. We’re going to be in real trouble if we get caught before that.”

“Right. Hey, Ken!”

He looked up to see Taichi staring at him expectantly.

“Lead the way. But trust me on this. If you betray us now, I won’t be holding Yamato back. Hell, I’ll be right there beside him. Got that?”

Ken swallowed heavily, and nodded, trying to ignore the rising nausea. This wasn’t just as bad as he’d been afraid of - it was _worse_. Only Wormmon’s presence by his side offered any comfort, and that was a double-edged blade. Grateful as he was to have his partner there, he couldn’t help but wonder why he even deserved to have Wormmon around. He’d been nothing but terrible to the little digimon for as long as he could remember knowing him.

In the extended silence as they walked down the halls, he had plenty of time to reflect upon that fact. When _had_ he met Wormmon? How had all this started? Everything surrounding that mysterious email was a blur in his mind. He wasn’t sure whether he wished he could remember it more clearly or not.

They had made it down two floors, and exchanged the light, pristine walls of the living area for the duller, more practical aesthetic of the lower sections when an alarm rang out. He froze, cringing.

“What set it off?” Taichi demanded.

“I…I don’t know,” Ken replied, his voice shaking. “I had cameras to monitor the base, but it wasn’t alarmed…”

_~"And most short-sighted of you that was, Ichijouji. To think you call yourself a genius!”~_

Takeru’s voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. Taichi swore, even as Daisuke, Hikari, Miyako and Iori pulled out their digivices.

“Ken, we need to get to the generator _now!_ ”

“It’s- It’s this way!” he cried, running for it. There was a chance that Takeru hadn’t returned yet, that he was still on his way back. If they hurried they might still make it.

He didn’t stop to make sure the others were following him - they weren’t about to let him out of their sight. They’d already made it clear that they believed he might still be working against them in some form, after all.

_~“Oh dear, trying to cut the power, are you? Well, you’re welcome to try, but I’m afraid you might run into a few obstacles along the way. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”~_

Even as Takeru’s voice rang out once more, they found themselves caught between a swarm of Flymon behind them, and Bakemon in front. The digimon immediately launched themselves into battle, while their human partners gathered in the centre ground.

Fladramom and Nerfertimon, already in front, found themselves holding off the Bakemon, while Holsmon and Digmon tackled the Flymon. But they were joined almost immediately by the others - even Wormmon threw himself into the battle, snaring Flymon so that Digmon could finish them off. There was a desperation to the fight which Ken could understand - if they didn’t hurry, they would never reach the generator at all. Four armour-evolved digimon were not enough to defeat Takeru and the monster that his partner had become.

“How far off are we?” Daisuke called.

Ken swallowed. “The corridor opens out not far ahead, and then we’ll be able to see it. But it’s down another level from here.”

Daisuke nodded. “Well, we’ll sort that out once we finish _this_ lot off. Go get ‘em, Fladramon!”

The Bakemon were dispatched first, and they pressed on, letting the remaining Flymon harry them into the corridor. Nefertimon swooped back to help finish them off, and those who couldn’t evolve pulled away from the battle to catch up with their partners. Ken led the way down the hall, stopping abruptly when two Meramon emerged in their path.

He almost tripped over in his haste to backtrack, and dodged the first blast.

“Fladramon, quick!” Daisuke yelled. “We’ll need Lighdramon for these guys.”

“No, wait!” Ken cried, but it was too late. Just as Fladramon devolved, one of the Meramon attacked, striking the little digimon. V-mon was thrown against a wall and lay there, groaning, while Nefertimon swooped forward to distract them.

Holsmon hung back to fend off the remaining Flymon with Digmon, but the battle was wearing on them. The smaller digimon were caught in the middle, with no real way to defend their partners. If they didn’t do something soon, they ran the risk of getting caught in the crossfire.

Daisuke had run over to V-mon, and was cradling his partner in his arms. The little digimon coughed and sat up, looking dazed. Still, movement had to be a good sign, didn’t it? Ken looked around at the group, and felt his optimism fade. Of the digimon who could still fight, most had fire-based attacks which would do nothing against the Meramon, and the Flymon were too fast. Without Lighdramon their chances were slim, and V-mon didn’t look in good shape at all. It was all the more galling to know that they were so close to their goal…

“Iori!” Ken cried, getting an idea.

The boy turned to look at him, clearly as suspicious as he was worried. “What?”

Ken gestured to where Daisuke and V-mon were huddled. “You need to get Digmon to break through the wall there. The stairs down to the generator are right around this corner. We can’t fight off this many foes, but if the power goes out, the rings will deactivate.”

Iori hesitated, but Koushiro put a hand on the boy’s shoulder and muttered something.

Digmon retreated towards the wall and set to, while the others began to back up towards the hole he was making. By the time he broke through, Holsmon and Piyomon had been hit. The former had devolved into Poromon, while Piyomon lay limply in her partner’s arms. They raced through the hole into a clear passageway, dodging another attack.

“Agumon, get the ceiling,” Taichi called, as they hurried away. The sound of crashing masonry echoed around them as they fled onward into a wide, high-ceilinged room. One wall opened out onto the vast space surrounding the generator room. They had almost made it. Just the stairs to go, and then across the bridge…

Ken closed his eyes when Hikari screamed, knowing what he would see when he opened them. Devimon hovered just past the edge of the room, hands outstretched. Even as Taichi yelled for everyone to duck, he attacked.

The world disappeared into a cloud of smoke and dust. Ken searched frantically for Wormmon, but his partner had vanished into the fog. Somewhere nearby he could hear Hikari calling for her own partner. If Nefertimon was down, they were left with just Digmon. Against Devimon, that was a battle which would be over before it began - and that was assuming Digmon hadn’t devolved as well.

Nearby - as his hearing returned with a loud, ringing tone - he could hear the others calling out to each other, making sure they were okay. Nobody seemed to know where Daisuke was, but everyone else was in one piece. The dust began to clear, and he saw them getting to their feet. By some sort of miracle, Digmon and Nefertimon had both held onto their evolutions. They got to their feet unsteadily, along with Agumon, Gabumon, Tentomon and Gomamon, and readied to attack once more. Ken looked around for Wormmon, but his partner was nowhere in sight.

_~“Wait, so you think_ that’s _going to work? A pathetic ensemble of_ child _-level digimon? Look, if you won’t surrender peacefully, I’m afraid I can’t show any mercy. A pity, but I guess you should have thought of that before invading my base and disrupting my plans for the day. You know, I’d really hoped to get this all finished with by now. Devimon, attack! Finish them off!”~_

The blast seemed to shake the entire base. Chunks of the ceiling collapsed, and the air filled with even more dust - so much that Ken couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. He huddled down, sure that they’d lost. It was _all_ his fault.

Suddenly, the few lights that had survived Devimon’s attack flickered and died. The background hum of the generator whined and faded out. The floor pitched - Ken grabbed hold of some nearby rubble and clung on for grim death as everything slid towards the wall. He wound up at the bottom of a pile of children and digimon as, from somewhere far off, they heard Takeru’s almost inhuman scream of rage.

“What the hell’s going on?” Taichi exclaimed.

“The power…somehow the generator must have been shut down.”

Ken had no idea which of them had spoken that time. Before he had a chance to guess, bright, golden light lit up the dust and smoke.

“Let’s take this fight outside,” called a new voice, bold and confident. “I don’t _want_ to hurt you, but I can’t let you harm the others.”

The dust cleared to reveal a figure, hovering in the air behind their foe. It was smaller than Devimon, with shining golden armour over a blue body.

“Is that… _V-mon?_ ”

Moments later they had their answer. As the two digimon began to battle in the gaping space surrounding the generator, Daisuke ran up a corridor carrying Wormmon.

“Hey, you won’t believe it! Ken’s base was powered by a _digimental!_ And then it turned V-mon into Magnamon! He…wait, what happened to you guys?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing at all,” Gomamon’s partner said, getting to his feet and helping one of the others up. “We just got attacked by Devimon and flung into a heap when the power went out-”

“Yes, we should probably get out of here, _fast_ ,” Koushiro said. “By the looks of things, this place is going to collapse.”

“What about Takeru?” Yamato said, his voice tinged with desperation.

“You really think he’s gonna stick around?” Taichi snapped. “Let’s face it, he’s probably gonna bail even faster than we can.”

“The base should have had enough backup power to land with its vital systems running smoothly,” Ken said, getting to his own feet as Wormmon ran over. “If removing the power did this…”

“…Then Takeru sabotaged it,” Taichi finished, nodding. “Right. Time to _go_. We’ll find him once we’re not gonna get caught up in an explosion or something. Agumon, can you evolve?”

Ken was startled by how quickly the others gathered their partners and formulated an escape plan. There was no hesitation, even from Yamato, as they ordered those digimon who could to blast through the outer walls of the base. Somehow in the chaos, Poromon had recovered his strength and evolved back into Hawkmon, and as Magnamon and Devimon fought their way out of the base, Miyako commanded her partner to evolve again and help carry everyone to safety.

He hung back as everyone scrambled for an exit. The ground was listing further now, and as the digimon blasted their way to daylight, the reason why became apparent. The base seemed to be falling in slow motion towards a wide, open desert. Magnamon and Devimon were already fighting in the air, a short distance above the sand.

“Everyone off of here, _now!_ ” Taichi barked. “Grab a ride with whoever you can. I don’t want to be on this thing when it lands.”

Light blossomed as every digimon who could fly evolved. The evacuation was swift - Kabuterimon hovered outside the hole in the wall, holding on while people scrambled onto his back. Ken swallowed heavily, sure he wasn’t welcome among the group. Certainly Taichi had said about _everyone_ getting off, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to approach the older children.

“Ken, what are you waiting for?” Hikari called, from beside Nefertimon. She looked from him to the others, and pursed her lips before holding out a hand. “Come with us.”

He stood stock still for a moment, frozen with indecision, then looked down to see Wormmon by his side. His partner certainly didn’t deserve to get caught up in all this, even if Ken couldn’t shake the nagging suspicion that _he_ did.

Grabbing Wormmon, he stumbled over to Hikari, and passed the digimon to her. The slant in the floor was getting steeper now, and he was sure the base had to be accelerating in its descent. Whatever Takeru had done, it was overriding the safety protocols he had put in place. He slipped, and Hikari grabbed his arm. Somehow he managed to scramble onto Nefertimon’s back and then they were in the air, flying away from danger.

Nefertimon skirted the aerial battle between Magnamon and Devimon, following Kabuterimon, Birdramon and Holsmon. They made for a sand dune some distance away from the falling base and landed there. Taichi was arguing with Yamato once again.

“-and I _don’t care!_ That is _Devimon_ . It’s not Patamon, it’s not Angemon; he’s not going to listen and we need to _stop_ him!” Taichi was shouting. “This is just like MetalGreymon - and maybe it’ll be the wake-up call your brother needs to snap out of this!”

A plume of sand and smoke erupted nearby, and they all turned to stare. Takeru stood atop an Airdramon, one whose eyes still glowed red. The dark spiral wrapped around its body proclaimed the reason it hadn’t returned to normal when the generator had stopped working.

“There, I’ve been nice. I gave you a warning shot,” Takeru said. Despite the pleasant tone of his words, he wasn’t smiling any more. His face was a mask of fury. “Now get out of my world before I kill _all_ of you.” He scowled. “On second thought, no, don’t. I’m going to _enjoy_ destroying you after all the trouble you’ve caused!”

They scattered as the Airdramon attacked again. Somewhere on the other side of the dust cloud Daisuke yelled:

“Magnamon, stop holding back! You need to stop him _fast!_ ”

Ken looked around as Magnamon attacked Devimon with full force. He saw Takeru’s Airdramon swerve towards the battle out of the corner of his eye, but before it could attack, Devimon cried out with rage and pain, and fell from the air. He landed with enough force to make a crater in the sand, and lay unmoving for a moment before glowing brightly and devolving into a tiny white blob.

Takeru’s scream of fury was even worse than when the generator had cut out. He leapt from the Airdramon, landing on a sand dune and rolling down it, before getting to his feet and racing towards his partner. The others ran over too, while Magnamon fired one more shot to destroy the Airdramon’s dark spiral before devolving as well.

“How _dare_ you!” Takeru yelled, turning to face them. “You think you can defeat _me?_ You think this changes anything? I’ll destroy you - _all_ of you!”

Ken froze, a few paces back from the others. As Taichi grabbed Takeru and wrestled him to the ground, he felt the blood drain from his face. He hadn’t changed back? They’d stopped the generator from working. They’d defeated Devimon. Even as he watched, Yamato ran over and pleaded with his brother to listen; to go home, but his words seemed to be falling upon deaf ears.

Hikari had picked Poyomon up, and carried the battered little digimon over to Takeru.

“Get that thing away from me!” Takeru snapped. “It’s _useless_ \- you’re all useless! Pathetic _worms!_ ”

Yamato turned away from his brother, shaking. His eyes met Ken’s, and narrowed.

“What did you do to him!” he yelled. “What did you do to _my brother!_ ”

Ken shrank back as Yamato advanced on him, but Koushiro and the other boy grabbed Yamato by one arm each and held him fast.

“Taking it out on Ken won’t help anyone,” Koushiro snapped. “And it certainly won’t fix Takeru.”

Yamato hung his head, and sagged against them. His voice cracked as he asked: “Then what will?”

Koushiro turned to look at Takeru, who was still struggling to get free, and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

And although Koushiro didn’t say it aloud, Ken couldn’t help but think there was a second half to that sentence: “I don’t know if anything _can_.”


	4. Without Hope

In the wake of Yamato’s outburst, Ken found himself sitting some distance away from the group. They didn’t trust him with their discussions - and why should they? He’d caused nothing but trouble. Even his attempts to help had been a failure. Takeru had been apprehended but still was sat there on the sand looking as angry and… _ wrong _ as he had before. The only contribution he had made was through Wormmon, who had helped restrain Takeru while everyone decided what to do.

The conversation was short. Takeru’s constant attempts to escape made that a necessity. Once again, it was Hikari who approached him when they had finished talking.

“We’re going to take Takeru to Gennai,” she said. “He’s…well, he’s someone who’s helped us in the past. It would be good if you could come too - you know more about what happened than the rest of us. We can’t make you, but-”

“No, I’ll go,” Ken said, getting to his feet. He looked briefly at Takeru, who was staring at him with an expression of pure hatred. “I have to do what I can to fix this.”

 

* * *

 

Takeru was still hurling muffled insults at everyone by the time they reached a quiet lakeshore - along the way, Taichi had finally gotten sick of telling the boy to shut up and requested that Wormmon gag him. Even Yamato hadn’t protested. The older children waited patiently, staring at the water, but Ken couldn’t help but notice that Daisuke and the others seemed just as confused as he felt. Hikari watched the water expectantly, her face unreadable, but she seemed restless.

“Ken, what are we waiting for?” Wormmon asked softly.

Ken shook his head. He was about to say that he had no idea when the water in front of them opened up to reveal a flight of white steps leading down into the lake itself.

“…that, I think,” he murmured. Did they expect him to go in  _ there? _ But the others were marching down the steps with no apparent concerns about drowning, hauling Takeru kicking and screaming with them. He swallowed heavily, and followed a short distance behind.

The steps levelled out to reveal a traditional house and garden of exactly the sort he would have expected to find in the countryside. The water seemed to be held at bay by some unknown force. Against all expectation, a man stood on a small bridge over an ornamental pond, waiting for them.

“ _ Gennai? _ ” Taichi said, coming to an abrupt halt. “You look…different.”

The man apparently called Gennai nodded. “A story for another time, I fear,” he said, looking at Takeru. His brows locked in a frown, and he turned to face Ken, sighing. “You have done more damage than I believe any of you children yet know. Of all the crests to lose…”

“Lose?” Yamato croaked. “But…but you can cure him, right?”

Ken wished the ground would swallow him up. He felt sick all over again - they were meant to have brought Takeru  _ back _ . He just wanted to fix things; to put right all the damage he had caused. It was a digital world, after all, and he had always assumed that it was no more complicated than a reset button here or there. But no one seemed to believe it was that simple. What had he done? And what would he do if he  _ couldn’t  _ fix things?

“I will do everything in my power to, Yamato,” Gennai said, although he didn’t take his eyes off Ken. “I feared it would come to this when Koushiro informed me of what had happened. Bring him inside.”

The older children led the way, but Gennai hung back, indicating that Ken was to wait. He felt frozen to the spot, his heart hammering loudly in his chest. Shame and terror mingled freely. What was Gennai going to do?

“It is a great pity we did not know about the seed sooner,” Gennai said at last, once the others were out of sight. Movement at the door indicated that at least one person had stayed behind to listen, but Ken was too shaken to look closely and see who it was. “Had I possessed that information, much of this could have been avoided.”

“I…I’m sorry. I’m sorry for  _ everything _ ,” Ken said, feeling tears well up and spill down his cheeks. “I didn’t… What can I do to make things right?”

Gennai frowned. “I fear it is not up to you as to whether things  _ can  _ be put right. That lies with Takeru now.” He halted, and the frown lifted. “However…if you would permit me to study the seed inside your neck, that would assist me considerably.”

Ken nodded. “O-of course. I’ll do whatever I can.”

“Then we shouldn’t waste time. Come with me.”

He followed Gennai into the house, keeping his head down. Takeru’s muffled protests could still be heard quite clearly, along with the quiet, sombre conversation of the others. He felt like an invader - no, he  _ was  _ an invader. He didn’t belong there; he was only here to try and put things right, then leave.

“Bring Takeru in here,” Gennai said, indicating a small room. “I shall require Ken’s assistance, but I must ask everyone else to remain outside.”

Ken looked up briefly, and wished he hadn’t. Yamato might not have said anything in protest, but he stood there with fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned pure white. He scowled at Ken, his expression filled with almost as much hate as Takeru’s. Taichi manhandled the boy into the room Gennai had indicated, and Ken followed quickly behind.

The room was divided into two by what appeared to be a glass wall. On the near side was a work table, and a few chairs, while the other contained a hospital bed and assorted equipment. As Gennai closed the door, the wall slid partway open.

“I apologise, Takeru, if you are in there and aware of what is happening,” Gennai said. “But I’m afraid this is for your own good. Taichi, if you would assist me? He will be safe enough in that containment unit for now. You should return to the others.”

The sticky webs from Wormmon’s attacks had begun to wear thin, and shortly after Takeru had been trapped on the far side of the glass, he broke free. He instantly let loose a stream of profanities, stalking back and forth along the wall and demanding to be set loose. Ken shuddered. Takeru’s behaviour prior to Devimon’s defeat might have been a mockery of his former personality, but even that appeared to have vanished now. The red veins in his eyes glowed faintly, and his skin had faded to an ashy grey. There was very little to connect him to the smiling boy in the photograph - he barely looked human at all.

Gennai fiddled with a dial on the wall, and the sounds of Takeru’s protests cut out. The man sighed heavily.

“It’s as I had feared then. I suspected as much when Koushiro first told me what had happened, but Takeru’s appearance confirms it - Ken, the seed which you used on him was, wholly or in part, a virus. While in the digital world, even though you are human your bodies are formed of data, and Takeru’s has been severely corrupted by it.”

Ken frowned. “I-I don’t understand. The seed was a copy of the one inside  _ me _ . How could it do that to him when I’m fine?”

Gennai nodded. “A good question. I can only assume that the process of copying the seed was imperfect, or that some element of it was altered, allowing it to take over far more completely. Which brings me to the reason I require your help. I have been working on an antivirus, but to understand what it must combat, I need to compare the data from the seed inside you to that of the virus within Takeru. I’m afraid we only have one chance to bring Takeru back. I cannot afford to make mistakes or he could be lost to us forever.”

The expression on Gennai’s face was deadly serious. Ken felt his stomach churning - his insides seemed to have tied themselves into knots. He swallowed heavily.

“Then, the antivirus - you should test it on me first,” he said. “To…to make sure it’s safe.”

If Ken had wanted another sign that the digital world was a very real, very different place to Earth - and he didn’t - Gennai’s reaction was it. Any adult would have protested the idea of testing an experimental treatment on a child, but Gennai simply nodded and said:

“If the seed within you is similar enough, I believe that would be very helpful indeed.”

 

* * *

 

One day later Ken sat in in a chair, nursing a sore arm. He’d felt the antivirus as it entered his system; a decidedly unpleasant sensation much like drinking tea that was still too hot, except it ran through his whole body. But it was the back of his neck which hurt the most, seeming to burn for a moment as though someone had held a hot poker under his skin. The sensation faded slowly, leaving him with a faint nausea.

“Is…is it gone?” he said at last. “Did it work?”

Gennai regarded him carefully. “The answer to that is both no and yes. The seed has a physical presence within you that no antivirus can remove. It hasn’t disappeared. But it should have been rendered sterile. I believe we can call this a success.”

Ken nodded. “So Takeru will be okay?”

There was a long silence. Takeru had been subdued by the time he had returned to the digital world that afternoon, and lay prone on the bed beyond the glass wall, with the little white blob that was now his partner sat by his head. The sombre expression on Gennai’s face as he regarded the pair was not particularly comforting.

“Ken, you must understand that in your case, the virus was mostly contained to the seed. Traces ran through your body, but nothing more. It was a relatively simple matter to purge those from your system and kill the seed from which they originated. Takeru is a different matter. His whole body has been corrupted by its presence, and to attempt to purge it in the same manner could have disastrous effects. It isn’t impossible, but it will be a far longer and more difficult task. The virus is too entangled with the data that makes him human to burn it out the way it was burned from you.”

Ken nodded, feeling the nausea grow stronger. After everything, Takeru  _ still  _ wasn’t fixed. And from the way Gennai spoke, it sounded as though there was a good chance he never would be.

“You have done all you can,” Gennai added. “Now you should return home and rest. It will take a few days for the effects of the antivirus to wear off, and you should avoid returning to the digital world until you feel completely recovered. If any traces of life remain in the seed, they stand a greater chance of restoring themselves here, where they are strongest.”

“What about Takeru?” he asked.

Unconscious, the boy looked far more like his real self, albeit a version devoid of colour. He lay almost motionless, with only the faintest signs of breathing. It was all too easy to miss; all too easy to see nothing but a body lying there on the bed.

“There are some precautionary steps I must take before administering the antivirus,” Gennai said, looking as serious as Ken had seen him yet. “I will need to make a few adjustments from the version which you received. But it should be ready in another day or so. Then…we simply wait and see - and  _ hope _ .”

It was far from the most reassuring thing that Ken had ever heard, but Gennai was right. There was nothing more he could do in the digital world. He made his way to the gate, meeting Wormmon en route.

“Are you okay, Ken?” Wormmon asked as they reached the portal, a little television set perched on the grass.

Ken bowed his head. “I just want to go home,” he murmured, only half speaking to his partner. “I don’t want to be a monster any more, and that’s all I am here.”

 

* * *

 

Returning to the real world again provided its own complications. The nausea caused by the antivirus lingered, accompanied by a mild fever which had his mother fretting over him and insisting he remain in bed. He didn’t feel well enough to object anyway, or up to visitors. The days blurred together as he alternated between dozing fitfully and lying awake for hours at a time, unable to think of anything but his guilt, and his fear that Takeru would never come back.

The computer stayed on, mostly so that Wormmon never felt that he was trapped without a way home. Even amid his feverish haze, Ken had no wish to hold anyone against their will ever again. But the little digimon showed no signs of wanting to return to the digital world - Wormmon huddled by Ken’s side, providing a small shred of comfort. Somehow, against all the odds, his partner still wanted to be with him, and hushed his half-conscious apologies when they got too tearful.

 

* * *

 

The first time the woman appeared, Ken put it down to a fever dream. She was tall, with silvery-blonde hair and a coldly attractive face that watched him for long moments. Ken stared at her, only half awake. To judge by the lack of light outside it was some time in the middle of the night. When he woke again, morning had arrived and there was no trace of her at all. The fact that she had been wearing a wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses indoors - as well as boots - only helped cement the idea that he had imagined her.

The second time she appeared, Wormmon bristled at his side. Wait, his partner could see her too?

“Who are you?” he said hazily, too tired and exhausted to question where she had come from.

“You gave up,” she said. Her voice was low and cold, and he had the sense that if he could see her eyes, they would be narrowed with disapproval. “Surrendered. How worthless. To think that you had unlimited potential, if you but tapped into it…”

He froze, sitting up in his bed. Those words -

“ _ You _ sent the email?”

“It’s not too late,” she said. “You can still achieve something with your life. Or will you just sit in that bed and rot forever?”

He clutched Wormmon tightly.

“I’m not going back there,” he snapped. In the back of his mind he wondered if this was a nightmare after all.

She smiled at him, and he felt his blood run cold.

“I suppose you’ll never know then,” she said, shrugging. “Never know if you could have saved him. That poor boy.”

He froze. “Takeru will be okay,” he said, although he couldn’t keep the doubt from his voice.

“Will he? Do you  _ really  _ believe that? We both know how strong the seed is.” She flicked an errant few strands of hair over her shoulder. “If you ignore the power that lies inside you, you’ll be turning your back on the only thing which can help him.”

“I-I don’t believe you,” he said, feeling his blood run cold. She couldn’t be right. The antivirus would have worked. It  _ had  _ to.

“Suit yourself,” she said, shrugging slightly. “But you won’t get this chance again. And whatever will you tell the others when they learn you could have saved him, but decided you didn’t feel like it?”

He felt his stomach lurch. What if this woman  _ was  _ telling the truth? Every instinct he possessed cried out that he couldn’t trust her, but if she disappeared and Takeru did need more help, how could he ever forgive himself? If she  _ was  _ the person who had sent the email - and she’d just quoted it almost exactly - then she had known about the seed inside him even before he had, after all. However untrustworthy she might be, she had to have gotten her information somewhere.

“What do you want?” he asked, turning an idea over in his mind. Either she was an ally or an enemy - quite probably an enemy. Well, for good or ill, she had information which no one else seemed to have. Surely it would be for everyone’s benefit if he found out more about her?

The silence stretched out. At last she smiled again, no less coldly than the first time.

“The power of the seed,” she said flatly. “And you wish to play the hero. It appears that, for the time being, our desires overlap.”

It was a fight to keep his face level. She didn’t know about the antivirus. She couldn’t - only he and Gennai had been there when he had volunteered to test it, and he hadn’t spoken to anyone about it since. More than anything, this suggested that she wasn’t someone to be trusted. But he had an edge. What she wanted was out of her reach forever - it had been days since he’d left the digital world, after all. Knowing that, surely it made sense to try and find out what exactly it was that she knew?

He frowned, pretending to think a little longer. After all, if he really was considering helping her, it wouldn’t be a quick decision. At last he nodded.

“I’ll go with you,” he said.

“But Ken,” Wormmon said, sounding alarmed. “You said-”

“I don’t care what I said!” he snapped, hating himself for the harshness of his voice. “I’m tired of being useless. I want to use this power for…for good.”

He ducked his head as he spoke, but kept his eyes on the woman. Sure enough, there was the ghost of a smile as he spoke. She believed him! And with any luck, he would have clued his partner in as well. Wormmon knew as well as he did that the seed was dead. Still, he would have a lot of apologising to do when they got back.

She stood stock still as he swung himself out of the bed and grabbed Wormmon and his digivice - D3, as Koushiro had called it. All he could do to try and reassure Wormmon was hug his partner tightly as he walked over to the computer.

“How do I know I can trust you?” he said, clutching his D3. The question was out of his mouth before he could stop it.

The woman fiddled with her hair, and turned to face him fully. The smile on her face widened.

“You  _ can’t _ .”

She moved impossibly fast. Before he could react, her arm had shot forward and grabbed him by the wrist. He cried out in shock, but the world was already changing; he felt the familiar tug of the digital world, hauling him in. They landed moments later on a rocky outcrop by a forest, with her hand still clutching him tightly. The sky overhead was clear, and studded with stars, but one side was growing light - morning couldn’t be all that far off. In the pre-dawn light, the world was grey and flat. He shuddered, and felt Wormmon slip from his grasp onto the ground.

“Ken!” Wormmon cried.

His partner launched an attack at the woman, but to Ken’s horror she ducked it with the same inhuman speed she had shown before, and kicked Wormmon savagely. The little digimon skidded across the rock, and came to a halt not far from the edge. Ken struggled, trying in vain to get free. Her fingers were locked around his wrist in a vice-like grip, and didn’t so much as budge when he tried to peel them off.

“Now listen here, you little brat,” the woman said. Her voice was much harsher than the smooth, silky tone she had used before. “One wrong move and your partner goes over the edge.” She dragged him further from the television portal, which still cast a white glow across the rocky ground, and dumped him onto the rock.

Ken stared at her in horror. This was all going wrong -  _ so  _ wrong, and so quickly, too.

“D-don’t touch Wormmon!” he said.

“I don’t want your pathetic  _ partner _ ,” she said scornfully. “I want the seed in your neck. Now be a good little boy and do as you’re told.”

He scowled at her, trying not to look at Wormmon. Out of the corner of his eye he could just about see the small digimon getting to his feet. Perhaps if he bought more time his partner could get to safety…

“Never!” he spat. “I won’t help you!”

She laughed. “Why the sudden change of heart? You never had any problems with it before. Did those foolish children really convince you that you could be one of them instead? How pathetic.” She paused, shaking her head. “Didn’t you wonder why none of them will speak to you? You belong to darkness now. There’s no going back after all you’ve done, and they know it. They just didn’t have the heart to tell you to your face.”

“You…you’re lying,” Ken said, although there was a knot in his stomach and the back of his neck prickled uncomfortably.

“Oh, but I’m not. You only have to look back on all the things you’ve done to see the truth. All those poor, innocent digimon you tortured and killed. All those dark towers you put up to control the ones you  _ didn’t  _ kill. And of course, you took one of their friends from them, and I’m afraid he won’t be coming back. You didn’t really think the seed could save him, did you? After all, I had to tell you  _ something  _ to get you to come with me.”

He felt sick. “You’re just trying to trick me!” he said, although he couldn’t help but wonder. She didn’t know about the antivirus after all, but surely by now Takeru ought to have gone home again? What if she was right? What if he couldn’t be helped?

Wormmon’s attack caught them both by surprise. The woman shrieked with fury as she was ensnared in a net of webbing.

“Ken, quickly!” Wormmon cried. “We should get out of here, now!”

Ken scrambled to his feet and raced past the woman, heading for his partner. He just had to get hold of Wormmon and make it to the portal, and he would be safe, right?

He stopped in his tracks when he heard the sound of laughter behind him. It was changing; something about the woman’s voice had shifted. He turned to look and tripped, landing heavily on the rocky ground.

“You’re not going  _ anywhere _ ,” the woman crowed, except she wasn’t a woman any more. Her hat was gone, and the lower half of her body had bloated into a round abdomen with six spider-like legs. Ken stared at her, horrified.

“You…you’re…”

“A digimon, yes,” she said. “Archnemon! And I’m afraid your luck just ran out. I can’t let you take that seed back to the real world - we need it far too much, and it’s not doing any good over there. It needs to be  _ here _ , where it will grow stronger again.”

“It won’t work for you!” he said, wishing he sounded more confident than he felt. Suddenly every decision he had made, for as far back as he could remember, seemed a terrible idea.

“Oh, I think it will,” she said. “You can’t escape your fate. It’s as I said - you belong to the darkness. Almost as much as that Takeru you were so worried about. They haven’t had much luck you know. I saw his friends just yesterday, and they were terribly upset about it all. He won’t wake up, you see. Just an empty shell, lying alone on a bed, forever. You should be proud. There aren’t many people who can do that to a person.”

Ken retched. He thought of Takeru, lying almost motionless on the bed. He’d looked almost lifeless anyway. Even Gennai hadn’t seemed confident about his chances.

_ I as good as killed him _ , he thought hollowly.

“Then again, I suppose it’s no surprise really. You did it once, after all. It was only a matter of time before you did it again.”

He stared at her in horror, head spinning. Was he just imagining it, or did the back of his neck ache, too? What if he’d come back too soon, and even managed to mess up the help Gennai had given him?

“I’m not…I don’t want…” The words stuck in his throat, each denial falling flatter than the last. What if she was right? What if he really  _ was  _ a monster?

“Ken, you can’t listen to her,” Wormmon said. His partner turned to face Archnemon. “I won’t let you hurt Ken!”

Archnemon laughed. “And what can  _ you  _ do about it?” she scoffed.

Wormmon puffed himself up. “Leave him alone! Ken isn’t a monster at all - he’s the kindest person I know.”

She smiled cruelly. “Oh yes. He’s treated you so well, hasn’t he… Now back away. Or don’t - it’s all the same to me. I’m taking him with me and I am very prepared to destroy you first!”

With that, she lunged forward, smacking Wormmon to one side. The little digimon bounced across the rocky outcrop, crying with pain.

“Wormmon!” Ken exclaimed.

He stood, but before he could run after his partner, Archnemon had grabbed his upper arm and hauled him off the ground. Her clawlike hand dug painfully into the flesh of his arm no matter how hard he struggled.

“Let go of me!” he cried, then started with shock as the D3 he still somehow held tightly in his hand began to glow. Wormmon, too, was engulfed in light, and when it faded, the small form of his partner had been replaced with a different digimon altogether. He’d  _ evolved? _

“Release him!” the digimon called, hovering on translucent wings.

Archnemon laughed, and held Ken up directly in front of her. He bit back a cry of pain as the sudden movement wrenched his shoulder.

“You wouldn’t dare attack me while I’m holding him!” she crowed.

The digimon bowed its head slightly, bringing its arms up. “Don’t worry Ken,” it said. “I’ll protect you.”

With that, it darted forward, and struck Archnemon with one hand while grabbing Ken with the other. The next moment they were high in the air, Ken tucked safely in his partner’s arm.

“You…you  _ evolved _ ,” he breathed. It was the only room he had thought for amid the turmoil in his mind.

“I couldn’t let her hurt you, Ken,” his partner said. “You-”

He never finished what he had been about to say, because at that moment, Archnemon attacked. Ken felt his partner’s body wrap around him as they fell from the sky, and gasped with shock as they crashed to the ground, rolling across the rocky outcrop.

“Ken, are you okay?” his partner asked, still shielding him.

He coughed, trying to get his breath back. It felt as though all the air had been knocked clean out of his lungs. “I…I’m fine…are you-”

“Don’t worry about me! I’ll hold her off. You just get to safety!”

The digimon Wormmon had become got to its feet, and stood between him and Archnemon, hunched forward and ready to attack. Archemon snorted.

“You aren’t strong enough to beat me. Give it up now!”

“Ken, get to the portal!” his partner cried, as two long spikes emerged from bulges on his forearms. “The digital world is too dangerous for you. You need to go back to the real world, quickly!”

He darted forward, striking with the spikes on his arms, but Archnemon sidestepped.

“I can come and snatch you whenever I like!” she crowed. “I got into your room through your computer, and I can do it again!”

Ken got shakily to his feet, and staggered towards the television set as his partner attacked again, and was driven back just as easily. He could see the toll it was having on his partner to keep fighting.

“She’s too strong!” he called, feeling panic well up inside him. “You have to stop!” His knees buckled, and he collapsed by the portal, unable to take his eyes off the battle. As it sped up, he saw the truth of his own words.  No matter how hard or fast his partner moved, Archnemon outmatched him, either by dodging the attacks or backhanding him out of the way. As he reached the television set, she let loose a thick, misty attack which enveloped his partner and sent him crashing to the ground.

“Wormmon!” he cried, as his partner landed with a crash and devolved. He had to save him!

“Ken…” came Wormmon’s reply his voice was weak and faint. “Go back…you have to go back… Don’t let…her get the seed.”

Archnemon vaulted Wormmon’s body and scuttled towards him over the rock face. He was frozen with terror, unable to turn and sure that he was a goner, when Wormmon launched a net which ensnared her legs and sent her sprawling. She shrieked with fury, and turned upon the little digimon.

“I’ll kill you!” she screamed, and picked him up in one of her large hands.

“Ken…” Wormmon groaned, as his body was crushed between her fingers. “Go,  _ now… _ ”

Her hand tightened once more, and Wormmon’s body disappeared into a cloud of shining particles.

Ken watched, unable to think - or even breathe. It was as though the world had stopped.

Except it hadn’t, and Archnemon was already shrugging off the last, disintegrating shreds of Wormmon’s final attack. His body seemed to move of its own volition, and he half turned, holding the D3 out to the television screen. The world  _ pulled  _ and he was yanked away mere moments before Archnemon reached him. The last thing he thought he saw of the digital world was a glitter in the dawn sky.

 

* * *

 

He landed hard on his bedroom floor. For a breath or two he just stared at his computer, unable to process anything. Self-preservation kicked in a moment later. She would come for him! She would come through the computer and Wormmon’s sacrifice would be in vain!

Ken scrambled to his feet and wrenched the power sockets from the wall. He stared at the blank screen as it turned blurry with his tears and fought to hold them back. Wormmon was… _ gone? _ How could he be gone? He’d been there through everything! Stayed by his side no matter what he’d done, and now he was dead. Had disappeared in front of his eyes, while Ken stood by, helpless to prevent it. What kind of justice was that?

He shook from head to toe, biting back grief. What was the point? What was the point of anything? He’d lost his brother. He’d as good as killed Takeru, and now his own partner was gone too. If he hadn’t gone to the digital world - trying to  _ fix  _ things, no less - Wormmon would still be alive. It was all his fault. No matter what he did, it just hurt the people around him.

How could he face the world knowing that about himself? More importantly, what right did he have to do so? If getting involved in things only made them worse, how could he risk hurting anyone else?

Archnemon was right about one thing. He  _ was  _ a monster. And he would never forgive himself. He didn’t  _ deserve  _ another world to retreat to. And he didn’t want the temptation to try any more. Clenching his fists, he made up his mind, and shoved the computer off the desk. It landed with an almighty crash, one side of the case popping off to expose its innards. How could one machine have been the key to ruining his whole life, anyway? Falling to his knees, he stared at the broken components. It was gone. Just as dead as…

He was still there, sobbing, when his parents raced into his room to see what had happened.


	5. Reunions

Time passed in a haze of despair. He lost track of the days first, then the weeks, until he was no longer sure how long it had been at all. The summer break came and went. He returned to school for a few days, and then was sent home again after he spent all his time in the medical wing, unable to do anything but stare at the wall or ceiling until his mother brought him home again.

He felt like a zombie - except that zombies were numb outside and in, and it was only externally that Ken had shut down. Internally, his thoughts were a riot of grief and self-loathing. The moment of Wormmon’s death looped almost endlessly in his mind.

His parents offered food and snacks, and told him to take all the time he needed. After the first few times he was sent home from school, they stopped suggesting he go. He overheard them one day stood outside his room, blaming themselves, and felt the guilt cut deeper still. Even by shutting himself safely away from everyone, he hadn’t avoided hurting people.

 

* * *

 

The knock was timid. Ever since finding him hunched on his bedroom floor by the wreckage of his computer, covered in bruises he couldn’t -  _ wouldn’t  _ \- explain, his mother seemed afraid to enter his room. As though she wasn’t sure what she would find. Part of him wished he could tell her that the bruises at least weren’t his fault, but if he did that, it would mean explaining everything else, too. Not only was there almost no chance of her believing him, he was sure it would only hurt his parents more to know what a terrible person their one remaining son had turned into. No, he had to shoulder the guilt alone.

“…Ken, dear? Your schoolfriend is here.”

Friend? He didn’t have any friends. He’d been too prideful, and pushed them away, and now…

The door clicked open, and he saw movement out of the corner of his eye.

“Ken?”

He knew that voice. He’d heard it before. It belonged to…to  _ Daisuke _ . What was he doing here? Then again, maybe this confrontation was inevitable. After all, the voices of his past wouldn’t leave him alone, sleeping or awake. Maybe it was time he was held accountable for-

“Okay, so I know this is maybe coming outta the blue a little, but we need your help again,” Daisuke said. “There’s this weird digimon called Archnemon-”

He flinched, and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. “I…I can’t help,” he mumbled, not caring that the pillow muffled half his words. If anything, this was  _ worse  _ than a demand for retribution.

“Ken, you’re the only one who  _ can _ ,” Daisuke said. “Gennai says you have a crest, like Hikari and the older kids, so you’re not like the rest of the Chosen Children around the world. And you didn’t give it up like the others did, so your partner could evolve to Perfect. Wormmon-”

“-is  _ gone _ ,” Ken said, choking out the words. He clenched his jaw tightly to hold back a sob, although the tears welled up regardless.

“Gone? What do you mean, ‘gone’? He left?”

He didn’t have the energy to sit up, but he owed it to Wormmon’s memory to set the record straight.

“He’s… he was…” Ken swallowed heavily. He’d spent weeks stewing on that memory, but he’d never actually had to say the words out loud. Finally he managed, in barely more than a whisper: “Archnemon killed him.”

The silence stretched on and on, unbearable. Finally, when he could take no more, he looked up to see the expression of shock and disbelief on Daisuke’s face.

“She…but how did you…”

“He held her off while I escaped,” he said hoarsely. It was the longest sentence he’d spoken aloud since Wormmon had died. His eyes flickered over to his now-empty desk before he continued, woodenly: “She pulled us into the digital world, and he evolved but…she was too strong. Wormmon-” He stopped, feeling a lump in his throat.

“When did this happen?” Daisuke asked. He looked pale - paler than usual, anyway.

“A few days after…Takeru.”

“ _ What? _ Ken, that was more than a month ago! Why didn’t you tell someone?”

Ken buried his face in his pillow. Wasn’t it obvious? Why, out of everyone who could have come to see him, did it have to have been Daisuke, the most obtuse of all his former opponents? Irritation fizzed in his mind alongside the grief, and he opened his mouth to tell him to get out and leave him alone.

He froze. No. No, he wasn’t going there again. He’d been down that road before, and where had it led him? Wormmon was dead because of it. Maybe Takeru as well, by now. And what would it have changed? Snapping wouldn’t help anyone.

“Please…just go,” he said at last. “I can’t help. I can’t do  _ anything _ .” He could hear the bitterness in his own voice as he spoke, but caring was beyond him. He must look pathetic - he certainly felt it. But what did it matter? The days when he had cared so passionately about his image that he had plotted intricate revenge on Daisuke for a tackle loomed in his mind, and he turned away.

He heard the door close softly behind Daisuke a minute later, and let his sorrow take over once more.

 

* * *

 

One more night rolled slowly by, robbing him of sleep and comfort. Daisuke’s visit had brought back even those memories he had managed to lay to rest - Takeru wasn’t the first of the Chosen he had captured, after all. He was simply the last.

His mother had brought him some breakfast on a tray, and left it on the desk where it was slowly growing cold. He could hardly bring himself to look at it.

He was just working his way up to an attempt to get out of bed - he knew his mother would only worry if he carried on leaving it untouched - when someone knocked on door. Someone he didn’t know, by the volume and speed.

A voice said something indistinguishable, and then the door swung open to reveal Daisuke  _ and  _ Hikari. The latter walked hesitantly to the middle of the room while Daisuke closed the door.

“Please just go,” he said, turning away. “I already told you-”

“Ken,” Hikari said, apparently not put off, “Wormmon isn’t dead. Digimon don’t die - not if they’re in the digital world. They just get reconfigured. If you find his egg, I’m sure he’ll come back.”

For a moment, he felt as though he couldn’t breathe. She was lying - she  _ had  _ to be lying, because how could that be true; how could she tell him that he had a second chance to be the right kind of partner? He didn’t deserve it at all.

_ But Wormmon does _ , he thought.  _ If anyone deserves another chance, it’s Wormmon. _

“Ken?” Hikari asked, sounding more hesitant.

“Are you sure?” he asked, marvelling at how level his voice was. His head was a mess of mingled hope and fear, uncertain if he wanted to allow himself to imagine a future which  _ wasn’t  _ spent without his partner.

“Yes,” she said. “It…it’s happened before.”

“Wait,  _ what? _ ” Daisuke exclaimed. “You never mentioned that.”

Ken turned back around in time to see Hikari shake her head sadly.

“It’s not my story to tell. I wasn’t there when it happened.” She sighed. “And right now we need to focus on Wormmon. Ken, we could…wait, where’s your computer?”

He shuddered. “Gone.”

“Why’d you get rid of it?” Daisuke asked.

He looked away. All of a sudden he was there on that rocky outcrop again, and Wormmon was disappearing into a cloud of particles. He shuddered, feeling hot tears well their way up inside him, and his neck ached as he thought about telling everyone to just leave him alone to his misery-

But wait. Wormmon might come back. He couldn’t push people away -  _ especially  _ when they were the ones who might reunite him with his partner.

He sat up, startled by how hard it was. How much of his strength had been lost while he had lain there consumed with guilt?

“Archnemon,” he said dully, staring at the tray on his desk where a computer ought to be. “She wants the seed. She…she came through into my room more than once. I had to get rid of her way in.”

Hikari gasped.

“Well, seems like all the more reason to make sure you’re not left outta the loop on this,” Daisuke said. “If she wants it, that’s bad news.”

“Ken, is there another computer in the house? Or, would your mother let you go out for a while?” Hikari asked. “I know this must all be a shock, but things are pretty desperate. If we can’t stop Archnemon the whole digital world will be at risk.”

He swallowed heavily, still not sure he could really believe what was happening. “I…don’t know,” he said. “But I can ask.”

 

* * *

 

They sat on the train in silence. Ken had only been to Odaiba once or twice, and it was still something of a shock to learn that the supposed terrorist attacks which had taken place there a few years ago had actually been the work of digimon. He kept his head down, hoping to avoid notice - his face had been plastered all over the news for long enough that there was a strong likelihood of someone recognising him.

It also helped to diffuse the intensely awkward silence. His mother had readily agreed to allow him out - she seemed to find it hard to disagree with anything he wanted these days, and he had disappeared from  _ home _ , after all. He suspected she was overjoyed that he seemed to want to do something other than shut himself in his room. A “trip to Odaiba with some friends” must have seemed like a real sign he was recovering.

But the reality was that he  _ didn’t  _ want to do anything else. He still wasn’t entirely sure he’d wrapped his head around the possibility that Wormmon could come back - he’d been grieving for a good six weeks, it turned out, and after all that time, it was hard to push past the resignation. He’d done this before after all; he knew how it worked. It was no easier, but he hadn’t allowed himself the delusion that Wormmon could return the way he had when…

Then, too, was the fact that Hikari and Daisuke didn’t exactly seem to know what to say either. He’d caught them giving him wary looks, as though they expected him to turn on them - as though he was engaged in some elaborate kind of act. It hurt, but not as much as the fact he couldn’t blame them for it at all. He didn’t deserve or expect their trust. The only reason they’d spoken to him was that they had no other options, after all.

“We’re using one of Koushiro’s computers to access the digital world,” Hikari said as they finally exited Odaiba station into sunlight. “If Archnemon really  _ is  _ interested in getting the seed, it’s better for us to go from a machine which isn’t going to be switched on all the time, and Koushiro said he has an old one which he can rig up just for today.”

Ken swallowed. “So we’ll be leaving Wormmon in the digital world?”

Daisuke stared at him. “Wait, you don’t  _ want  _ to be with him?” he said incredulously.

“I’m not keeping him in my home if he doesn’t have a way back to the digital world,” Ken said flatly. He hung his head. “I…I can’t do that. It’s not right.”

“Well… we’ll work it out,” Hikari said. “We have to find him first, anyway.”

He nodded once, and followed as they made their way to Koushiro’s apartment. He was rather taken aback when the door was opened by a woman who welcomed them all in and offered them tea - he belatedly realised that she must be Koushiro’s mother. More surprising still was the fact that Tailmon and V-mon were waiting in the living room, not bothering to conceal themselves at all. He hung back as Hikari and Daisuke greeted their partners, feeling more out of place than ever. He’d tried to  _ kill  _ these digimon.

It was easiest to keep his head down and repeat the thought that they were doing this for Wormmon. Wormmon hadn’t harmed anyone. Wormmon deserved a second chance. He followed the pair into Koushiro’s room, where an older computer had been set up on the floor. The desk was fully occupied by a newer computer, with a laptop open beside it.

“So, Hikari says Archemon seemed confident she could find you in the real world?” Koushiro said.

Ken nodded. “She…she used my computer to get into my room. The first time, I thought I was imagining things. But the second…she dragged us into the digital world with her.”

Koushiro frowned. “That’s certainly an unprecedented development then. We’ve seen digimon travel into the real world before, but never with such apparent ease. Although, at the time  _ we  _ didn’t find it so easy either. It could simply be that the addition of stable entry points has made it easier for digimon to cross over as well. I’ll have to discuss this with Gennai.”

“Can you do that once we’re gone? No offence, but all this talk isn’t what we’re here for,” Daisuke said.

The older boy nodded, his attention clearly elsewhere as he brought up the gate. No one said anything more until the three of them - plus two digimon - were stood on the edge of a patchwork field, surrounded by giant building blocks.

“We’ll stay here,” Hikari said firmly. “If Ar-if anyone gets close we’ll let you know.” She didn’t quite meet his eyes as she spoke.

He swallowed. “Thank you,” he said, his voice barely audible, then turned to face the veritable sea of eggs before him.

They lay on the ground, scattered as if they had fallen there. This was where digimon were reborn? He’d never payed much attention to the place beforehand - there were no real resources in the area, and the lurid colours and babyishness of the place had given him the impression that it wouldn’t be enough of a challenge to bother with it. Especially when it was tucked so out of the way. Now he could only be grateful that he’d never tried to impose his will upon this place. That there was still a safe haven in which digimon could be reborn.

He forced himself to walk forward, mechanically, hating himself with every step. He was invading  _ now _ ; he didn’t belong here at all. This wasn’t his world, and how many of the eggs lay here because of his own actions? The thought made him feel queasy.

Were Hikari and Daisuke watching him? They’d said they were keeping guard in case anyone disturbed them, but he couldn’t help feeling that their main purpose was to be nearby if he tried anything. It was what he would have done in their position. The thought of those eyes on him made every step twice as hard - what if he couldn’t find Wormmon? How long would he be permitted to wander here looking? How long could he stay here before his own guilt consumed him from the inside?

There were so  _ many _ . So many eggs and, further in, cradles containing baby digimon. He didn’t bother to pretend that they might have been there anyway - he’d killed far too many digimon in his time as Kaiser for denial to be worth anything. This, then, was the consequence of his deeds. All these digimon, forced to return here. Concrete evidence of his misdeeds, stretched out all around him.

He halted, overcome with grief and guilt. How could he ever atone for any of this? Maybe Wormmon was better off as an egg, safely without him.

No. This wasn’t about his own happiness, was it? The others needed Wormmon - which meant they needed him too. Somehow, against all the odds, he’d been given a chance to do something good. It wouldn’t take away from all the bad. Nothing could. But he owed it to everyone, digimon and human alike, to do  _ something _ . He couldn’t undo the past, but there was a chance he could prevent more suffering in the future. If he found Wormmon, perhaps he could stop more digimon having to start over at the Village of Beginnings. He had to try.

As he stared around him, he gradually became aware that a short distance off, one of the eggs had begun to glow. He stared at it, not quite sure what it meant. Why was it glowing? Without quite meaning to, Ken found himself walking over. It was calling to him, not with a voice, but with a gentle tug on his heart. He knelt down beside it, almost too nervous to breathe as glow brightened, and cracks began to appear. It split open, the shell falling away and growing into a cradle. Inside was a small, green digimon with what looked like a leaf sheltering its face.

“…Wormmon?” He was almost afraid to ask, because as sure as he was that the digimon before him was his partner, he was terrified that he must be wrong.

“Ken! You came to find me?”

His eyes stung and his nose prickled as the world turned blurry with tears. All he could do was nod, because his throat had seized up with the effort of not crying aloud. All this time, Wormmon had been here? He hadn’t lost him at all.

His partner hopped out of the cradle into his arms, and he held him tightly.

“I’m so sorry Wormmon,” he said. “I’m sorry for everything. I never should have believed anything Archnemon said - I thought I could trick her, but it all went wrong and she…she…”

“It’s okay, Ken!” his partner said. “It wasn’t your fault.”

For some time, neither of them said anything. It was a reunion Ken thought he would never have, and words were more than he could manage. At last, he heard the sounds of footsteps, and looked up to see Hikari making her way over, walking hesitantly between the eggs and cradles.

“Ken? I’m sorry to interrupt, but Koushiro says that we’re needed, and we can’t really risk leaving you here alone.” She raised her hands defensively. “Not that we think you’ll…it’s just that your partner is still a baby digimon, so you don’t have anyone to protect you if there’s an attack. It’s safer for you to be in the real world right now.”

Ken turned to her, feeling torn in two. He knew how dangerous it was - wasn’t that the entire reason he was sat here in the Village of Beginnings? But it was too soon,  _ far  _ too soon for him to want to walk away from Wormmon. He couldn’t shake the feeling that if he left now, he might wake up and find that it had all been some sort of dream.

“What’s wrong, Ken?” his partner asked.

Ken swallowed. “I…I don’t want to have to leave you here, but I have to.”

“Why can’t I come with you?”

He sighed. “I don’t have a computer any more. I…well, I smashed it so Archnemon couldn’t get through. I can’t take you back to my apartment with no way home. It’s not right.”

“Ken,” Hikari said, “I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave your partner here alone. Not until we make sure it’s safe. And we don’t have time to waste. Head back to Koushiro’s for now. We can work everything else out later, okay?”

She set off at a brisk walk back across the egg-fields, and he followed as closely as he could. The lack of food and exercise had taken its toll - he felt exhausted by the time they reached it. If they really did want him to fight alongside them, he needed to get back into shape. Hell, if he didn’t want to be a liability to  _ Wormmon  _ he needed to get back into shape. The days when he’d run rings around everyone seemed like something out of a dream. They had all started after he’d found out about the seed, anyway. How much of that had ever really been  _ him? _

It wasn’t a comfortable thought to return to the real world with, especially as he returned with only his partner for company, to find Koushiro sitting at his desk with a frown on his face. The boy didn’t seem  _ angry _ , as such, but his expression was hardly welcoming.

“Welcome back,” he said. “It’s good that you were able to find your partner. With Takeru still out of the picture, I’m afraid it’s highly likely that we will need to call on your assistance at some point.”

Ken paled. “He’s…How is he?” What if Archnemon had been right after all?

Koushiro sighed. “How much do you know? Not a lot, I’m guessing, if you’ve been out of the digital world this whole time. Essentially, the antivirus has repaired Takeru’s body, but the side effects are wide-reaching. I’m not really sure how best to explain it, but…ah. You know something about computers, yes?”

Ken nodded, afraid to speak, or admit that most of his knowledge was now a missing haze in his mind. He clung to Wormmon, noting that his partner had gone to sleep at some point.

“Well,” Koushiro continued, “I’ll try and explain it in those terms. Takeru’s entire body is data right now, which means that for the virus to work, it has to…ah… _ reboot _ him, so to speak. Shut everything off and start again. Gennai couldn’t let it do that, of course. It would have been the same as killing him. So he managed to section off the data that makes up Takeru’s mind, and keep it elsewhere. He was a little hazy on the details - which is typical of how Gennai works unfortunately - but I suspect he’s tapped into a source of power which he hasn’t informed us about. He told me it was a rather risky procedure, at any rate. Gennai’s been monitoring Takeru in this other place the entire time, and objectively the process is good. The virus is all but gone at this point. But for some reason Takeru has no memories. Every time Gennai tries to prompt their return, Takeru outright rejects them and becomes hostile or agitated. We haven’t given up, but there’s no way of knowing how long it will take for him to recover.”

“And then Archnemon appeared,” Ken murmured, not meeting Koushiro’s eyes. “And you weren’t strong enough to stop her.”

“In short, yes. She’s using the dark towers you constructed to create artificial digimon. At first she only used one each time - that wasn’t a problem for the others to stop, because the false digimon were only as strong as adult digimon. But yesterday she used ten at the same time. The artificial digimon she created was at the  _ Perfect  _ level. Our partners lost the ability to evolve to Perfect when we surrendered the power of our crests, so they’re not strong enough to defeat it. But you have a crest  _ too _ . Once your partner gets stronger, there’s no reason why, um…” Koushiro trailed off and looked at something on his laptop. “Why  _ Leafmon  _ there shouldn’t be able to evolve to Perfect. And at that level, he would be strong enough to defeat Archnemon too, which would stop her from creating these artificial digimon in the first place.”

Ken felt sick. They were putting all their faith in  _ him? _ Why? Surely this had to be some sort of mistake. He didn’t even trust himself, and he knew the spore to be inactive. Knew how loathsome the idea of ever hurting anyone again was. They didn’t have anything like that assurance.

“But…but what if he can’t?” he said, too ashamed to say what he was really thinking:  _ What if  _ I  _ can’t? _

Koushiro nodded. “Gennai is working on an alternative - a backup plan, so to speak. Unfortunately, a key element of that plan lies in Takeru making a recovery. So for now, both plans are beyond our reach. All we can do is hold Archnemon - and her ally, Mummymon - off until either your partner is strong enough, or Takeru wakes up.”

The information settled over him like a thick blanket; heavy and suffocating. They had reached out to him because there was no other choice. Because it was  _ his  _ fault they didn’t have an alternative. The memory of Yamato’s anger rose in his mind to crowd him - he wasn’t wanted. He was a replacement, one barely tolerated. Hated, probably, and with good reason. The best thing he could do was keep his head down and try not to make things  _ worse _ .

He swallowed, mustering courage to speak.

“I should take Wo… _ Leafmon _ back to the Village of Beginnings then,” he said. “I know you have a lot to do.”

Koushiro stared at him, confusion etched across his face. “Take him  _ back? _ You need to keep him with you. Our digimon draw their strength from us - that’s how they evolve at all. It’s no good sending Leafmon back to the digital world. It could take him years to evolve that way.”

“But…but I don’t have a computer any more. I can't access the digital world.”

Koushiro raised an eyebrow. “So what happened to it?”

Ken looked down at his partner. Getting him back was like something out of a dream. Could he really send him back to the digital world alone? If Koushiro was right, and Leafmon would be stronger with him…

An image of Takeru flashed into his mind, locked in a prison cell in his base, screaming with fury and demanding to be released; to see his partner. He saw Patamon, sitting inertly in another cell with eyes glowing bright red. Saw Takeru, strapped to a table and pleading with him, begging to be set free. Saw Wormmon, trapped in Archnemon’s clawed grasp as it grew tighter and tighter…

The shudder started in the base of his spine and didn’t stop until had passed up between his shoulder blades. He felt dizzy and nauseous.

“I pushed it off the desk,” he said when he felt he could speak again. “The case popped. Then my…my father said he might get it started again, so I ripped out the motherboard and threw it against the wall. They threw it out. I…I didn’t want Archnemon getting into my home again.” He didn’t mention that he hadn’t wanted to be tempted to go back any more. They trusted him little enough as it was.

Koushiro exhaled heavily. “Okay, so you’ve not got a computer.” He paused. “Did they throw everything out, or just the CPU?”

 

* * *

 

“It’s just a loan, mother,” Ken said, as Koushiro sat at his desk plugging things in. “I’m going to give it back once I’ve caught up with my schoolwork.”

He wasn’t sure if his mother looked more worried or happy. Had she bought the story? They’d practised it on the train home so that he could deliver his lines with confidence. All they could do now was hope it was plausible enough that she believed them.

“That’s an awfully generous offer…” she said uncertainly.

Koushiro looked up, smiling. “It’s okay. My father works in computers, you see. He often brings home old machines. So I always have a couple lying around. I salvage them for parts mostly, but I don’t mind helping a friend…”

Ken ducked his head. White hot shame flooded his cheeks. The pretence that the others were his friends was one of his least favourite parts of their cover story. He hated lying to his parents at the best of times, but this… What would he tell them when it was all over, and he never saw his “friends” again? He glanced nervously up at his bed, where Leafmon lay hidden under his covers. At least he had his partner back. The one gift, undeserved, which he could cling to.

And cling he did. When Koushiro and Hikari had departed back to Odaiba; when he had eaten more of his dinner than he was really comfortable with, and given the rest to Leafmon; when the lights went out and plunged his room into the dim glow of an inner-city night. He wasn’t alone.

“I’m so glad I found you again Leafmon,” he said. For a minute, all the grief and shame and guilt faded, and he allowed himself a moment of contentment with his partner.

“I’m glad too,” Leafmon replied.

They lay in silence for a while.

“Leafmon,” Ken asked at last. “When you evolved…I never got a chance to find out what that form was called. I hadn’t seen it before.”

“I was Stingmon,” the little digimon said. “And don’t worry. Next time I’ll be strong enough to protect you Ken, just you see.”

“Stingmon,” Ken repeated sleepily. “I…Thank you. For being my partner, I mean.”

If Leafmon replied, he didn’t hear it. He had fallen asleep to peaceful dreams, for the first time in as long as he could remember.

 

* * *

 

With Leafmon there, it was a lot easier to keep up the pretence that he had gotten over the “delayed shock” that his parents believed was responsible for his extended convalescence. In part, it was down to the little digimon eating a sizeable portion of his food, but Leafmon also gave him the courage to be up and about. The long, exhausting walk back to the digital gate weighed on his mind. If he was going to be of any use to anyone when the time came, he couldn’t be holding them up. He’d been a star athlete, after all. Surely he could manage a little running?

In the event, it took a little more persuading than he had hoped. His mother was surprisingly firm with her insistence that he rest the day after his excursions across the city. Still, it gave Leafmon a chance to rest and grow, too, and for them to test a visit to the digital world. They timed it for shortly after school, when he knew the others were more likely to be fighting against Archnemon, and stayed for just a few minutes before returning to his room.

The next morning dawned bright and sunny, but he left it until after lunch before going out. He knew his mother still worried, and having two solid - if overly filling - meals in his stomach would help her to relax, he was sure.

He didn’t actually plan to  _ run _ . Not that day, anyway. However much the seed had or hadn’t played a part in his previous athletic prowess, he knew that he was more likely to injure himself than anything if he pushed too hard and fast. Recovery was going to be slow going. Besides, it was a warm autumnal afternoon. The heat, combined with the fact he had spent almost the entire summer indoors, meant that he stood a good chance of getting heatstroke if he wasn’t careful.

Justifying his satchel had been an interesting conversation, but after everything, he wasn’t prepared to go anywhere without his partner. And but Leafmon was good company on his walk. As long as he held his phone to his ear, he could hold a conversation with the little digimon and his bag and no one gave him a second glance.

More than anything, that told him that the news had moved on. There had been a time when walking around garnered automatic recognition from passers by. The degree of anonymity he had was actually refreshing. How long had it been since he’d had a walk just for the sake of it?

“The human world is very busy,” Leafmon said, peering out of his satchel.

Ken looked down at his partner. “It’s certainly very different to the digital world, yes.” He smiled sadly. “I used to hate it.”

“Why?” Leafmon asked, then ducked back into the bag as they reached an intersection. A small boy stared at them for a moment, but said nothing. When the lights changed, Ken hung back as the boy’s mother hauled him across the road amid the crowd of people. He followed a short distance behind, not wanting his partner’s resting place to get caught in the crush of bodies.

“The people,” he said, sighing. “So many, all rushing along with their lives. I thought they were like…like insects. Small and worthless. I thought I was so much better than them.”

“And now?” Leafmon’s muffled voice said.

The ghost of a smile - a  _ real  _ one - tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Well, they’re still a lot like insects,” he said slowly. “From a distance, at least. But I don’t think insects are so bad any more. They have some very admirable qualities, in fact. Even though they’re small, they can be very tenacious, and brave too.”

“That’s right, I am!” Leafmon piped up, bouncing around in his bag.

Ken hugged the bag tightly, so that no one noticed the movement. “Leafmon,” he hissed, “You’re meant to be inconspicuous!”

Panic flooded him, leaving his senses jittery. What if someone saw, and wanted to know what Leafmon was? What if his partner was taken away? He hurried down the street, noting the ache in his legs. It was probably time to go home anyway. He’d walked far enough for one day.

The biggest crowds petered out as he turned the corner, and he relaxed a little. There were fewer people to notice anything out of the ordinary here, down the lesser roads. Just a few cars parked at odd intervals along the street. And it  _ was  _ good, really, that Leafmon seemed to have so much energy. With any luck it wouldn’t be long before his partner evolved into Minomon again, and from there-

“Well, well, well.” Archnemon said, stepping out in front of him. “Ichijouji, you came out from your little hiding place at last.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! So, this is the end of Part One of Renascent - I will be posting more of the story further along in the release schedule. Hope to see you then!


	6. Found and Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greetings once more and welcome to the second section of Renascent, as divided up for the Digimon Adventure Bang 2016.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Please be aware that this chapter comes with a content warning, for generally dark themes and brief discussion of suicide._   
> 

Ken froze in place. His heart raced in his chest, and the world seemed to sharpen around him, each tiny detail crystal clear. She was  _ here? _ Out in broad daylight? He looked around for witnesses, and his heart sank as he realised there were only a few people around. None were close by. And even if there had been, how could he endanger them by calling for their help? Archnemon was a digimon. She could kill them as easily as she had killed Wormmon.

Almost unconsciously, his grip tightened on his bag. She could kill Wormmon  _ again _ .

“What do you want,” he said, hoping to play for time.

“Ever inquisitive, aren’t we Ichijouji. I’m afraid this time, there will be no running away. You’ve no partner, no portal, and nowhere to turn…unless of course you fancy being responsible for the death of someone  _ else _ .”

It took every ounce of control he possessed to keep himself from staring at his bag. Archnemon didn’t know about Leafmon? If that was the case, he had to keep her from finding out at all costs. As outmatched as Stingmon had been, his partner was in a far more precarious situation now. He shifted his shoulder, letting the strap of the bag slide down a little. So far Leafmon had stayed quiet, but how long would that last? He had to get his partner away from her,  _ fast _ .

In the time it took him to utterly fail to come up with a plan of any sort, a van screeched to a halt beside them. Archnemon smiled thinly as she strode forward and grabbed him by the arm.

“In you go, Ichijouji,” she hissed. “And remember that if you draw too much attention I’ll just have to silence the witnesses.”

He struggled instinctively, ducking his head down to try and pull free as she dragged him over to the van and flung the rear door open. The strap of his satchel slid off his shoulder. As Archnemon lifted him up and threw him inside, the bag slid down his body and snarled around his legs. She stepped lightly into the van beside him.

It was his last chance. With a frantic burst of adrenaline, he pedalled his feet in the air and freed himself from the satchel, then kicked it from the van. The green shape of his partner rolled out as the bag hit the ground.

“Leafmon, get away from her, quick!” he yelled.

Archnemon’s head snapped up sharply.

“Why you-” she screeched, but at that moment the van lurched forward. She hissed with fury, and slammed the door closed, then turned to Ken, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and lifting him effortlessly off the ground. With her free hand she held on to the side of the van to keep balance.

“Don’t think this changes anything,” she spat, and threw him back to the floor of the van.

He landed awkwardly, and rolled into the corner, biting back a cry of pain.

“Where are you taking me?” he snapped. If he kept pretending he wasn’t terrified, there was always the chance he might start to believe it himself, right? And so far Archnemon hadn’t seemed interested in  _ hurting  _ him, just in getting hold of him and the seed. He tried not to think about what would happen when she learnt that it was dead. The possibility that somehow it  _ wasn’t  _ was more than he wanted to consider at all.

Rather than answer him, Archnemon strode over to the front of the van, shooting him a contemptuous glare. “Mummymon, hurry up!” she snapped. “And stop throwing us about so much. Can’t you drive in a straight line?”

Ken swallowed, nursing his shoulder. The whole of his left arm ached dully, and his ankle stung. Even if he could somehow get to the van door and wait for the van to come to a halt, he doubted he could get the door open and escape in time. Still, it had to be worth a try, didn’t it? Whatever Archnemon wanted the seed for, it couldn’t be good, and he didn’t much fancy his chances when she realised she’d already been thwarted.

He edged towards the back of the van, trying to appear as though he were too distracted and miserable to have thought of escape. The fate of his partner weighed heavily on his mind. Leafmon might be safe for now, but who knew how long the little digimon would last on the Tokyo streets? It didn’t bear thinking about. He had to get out of this somehow and go back for him.

Unfortunately, Archnemon caught him before he’d gone more than a few inches. She stepped neatly between him and the van doors, bracing herself as the van swung sharply to the left. Ken slid hard against the side of the van and groaned.

“And where do we think we’re going?” Archnemon asked, her voice falsely sincere. 

He backed up hastily as she morphed into her alternate form and leaned down to leer at him menacingly.

“You’re needed alive, but you can live well enough with a few bits missing,” she hissed. “An arm, a leg…if you want to keep them all you’ll  _ stay put! _ ”

 

* * *

 

There was no way for him to tell how long the journey took, but it felt like forever. Archnemon remained in spider form, using her extra feet to keep her balance as the van shook and lurched. Whoever this Mummymon was, apparently he wasn’t a very good driver. Ken was thrown from one side to another, trying to keep as far from Archnemon as he possibly could.

The sounds of traffic outside faded away after a time, and he realised they must have left Tokyo to drive through the countryside. Not long after, the van came to a halt. With a final shudder, the engine shut off, leaving them in silence. Ken closed his eyes tightly as Archnemon shifted back to her human form. He’d been captured by two digimon who were too powerful for any of the others to defeat, and the only one who knew was his partner - who had been stranded in the middle of Tokyo, alone.

Worse, the others were  _ relying  _ on him. They’d been desperate enough to ask for his help, and now he’d been caught by the very digimon he was meant to defeat. He’d failed. And what would happen to him when Archnemon realised the seed was dead? Worse still - what if it  _ wasn’t? _ Fear rose like bile in his throat. He stiffened, fighting to keep the contents of his stomach down as he realised there was every chance Archnemon was going to kill him.

The door opened, and a digimon he assumed to be Mummymon peered in. “Archnemon, my dove, we’ve arrived!”

“I can see that, you idiot!” Archnemon snapped.

She reached down and grabbed Ken by the arm again, making him yelp as she dragged him from the van. He scrambled to get his feet under him before she dislocated his shoulder, wincing at the pain in his ankle. His vision greyed as she held him upright over a gravel path, and his shoulder felt as though it was on fire. Sparks flickered across his vision as she tightened her grip. He could hear her talking to Mummymon, but past the pain her words didn’t seem to make any sense.

Somehow Ken managed to stumble along beside her until they entered a building and her grip released. He fell to his knees, cradling his left arm in his lap. He was fairly sure his shoulder  _ hadn’t  _ been pulled out of its socket, but the spiking pain suggested it had been a close-run thing. Where were they? He’d been too distracted to get a look at their surroundings, lost in a world of hurt.

The inside of the building didn’t give much away. The furnishings were modern in that they were not  _ traditional _ , but nothing looked particularly new. If anything, he would have said that the place seemed to have been uninhabited until recently. There was a lot of dust underfoot, too, save for a few tracks here and there where he presumed people walked more frequently.

“Ah, I see you two have returned with our guest,” said a smooth, male voice.

Ken looked up at the doorway opposite to see a tall, gaunt man in his mid-thirties. His hair was long and unwashed, and he smelled stale; as though he’d been wearing the same clothes for several days. Archnemon and Mummymon nodded politely at him, but his gaze was focused entirely on Ken himself.

“I don’t suppose you remember me, do you?” the man asked calmly, as though this were a chance encounter on the street. “No, I expect you were rather… _ distracted _ at the time. Perhaps if I were to say that ‘the seed within you provides unlimited potential, if you but tapped into it’, that would refresh your memory?”

Ken felt as though his innards had twisted into a knot. “Y… _ you _ sent the email?” He glanced at Archnemon. “I thought-”

“Yes, well, I couldn’t quite reveal my hand in the matter at that time. And while Archnemon is a very capable servant, she lacks the personal history that we do.  My name is Yukio Oikawa. I work with your father, you know. You and I met at your brother’s funeral. I could tell, the moment I met you, that before me was a child containing a dark seed. A rare gift, let me tell you.”

He didn’t want to think about that day - didn’t want to think about  _ anything  _ relating to it - but suddenly in his mind he was back there, stood holding a photograph and feeling as though the world had come to an end. Consumed with grief and guilt and shock, and there…stood in the sea of mourners, a face that was grey and gaunt, but devoid of the sorrow which everyone else bore.

His eyes widened with the memory, and with shock that this strange man’s story was  _ true _ . Did that mean Archnemon was this man’s partner? But if that were the case, what about Mummymon? And how did Archnemon have a form that looked so human?

“Ah, so you  _ do  _ remember,” the man said, nodding once. “Well, that certainly makes things easier. Now if we may get down to business. The seed within you is something which I had hoped you would nurture. The clues in the email I sent were to help you in that regard. But the fact remains that your partner evolved to fight Archnemon when you travelled with her to the digital world, which is something it should have prohibited. It would appear that you have been neglecting your gift, Ken. And this means I am forced to take matters into my own hands. You see how it is.”

Ken swallowed. “It won’t work,” he said, voice shaking. “G-Gennai killed the seed. You’re too late.”

“Oh indeed?” Oikawa said. “Well, we shall see about that. I’m sure there’s something left within you to revive. Such seeds are most resilient, you know, when given the proper host. And you really are quite the perfect individual. You capitalised on your abilities quite marvellously. Why, we might have been excellent allies.”

Ken shook his head. “I won’t help you.”

“Yes, I have been informed about your regrettable reluctance as well. Fortunately, what I require at this stage does not rely upon your willingness to assist me. I merely require that the seed return to the digital world, where it has the best chance of recovering from its neglect. But first, let us see how it has been getting along, shall we? It’s only data, after all. I had intended to harvest it by now, and share it in the same manner that you did. Perhaps there is sufficient of it remaining that I can find a…backup host, as it were. Someone less likely to be interfered with than  _ your  _ choice.”

Ken ground his teeth together, trying to hold back tears. Takeru. The man meant Takeru. He’d done to him exactly what this Oikawa wanted. He’d been a  _ pawn  _ the whole time. Everything he had done - it wasn’t just wrong, it was someone else’s plan, too. All his vanity, all his confidence - it had been a trick. He wasn’t clever, or special. He wasn’t important. He was a  _ host _ . Tricked and used, and too stupid to see it. How many people had he hurt because he hadn’t been able to move past his own petty pride?

He managed to put up a token struggle as Archnemon bound his arms behind his back with a strip of material torn from what looked like bedlinen, but no more than that. His shoulder ached fiercely as Oikawa tipped his head forward and pressed a device to the back of his neck. Pain flared at the site of the seed; it was burning hot and yet cold at the same time. He felt as though someone had sucked all the energy out of him and slumped forward, his vision going dark.

 

* * *

 

The world swam lazily into focus, all the slower thanks to a pounding headache and deep-seated nausea. He blinked, trying to make sense of his surroundings. Where had the house gone? And why did he feel so exhausted?

He was lying on the ground outside. Something about the air told him it was the digital world, even before his vision cleared and he could see that he was on the same rocky outcrop that Archnemon had brought him to before.

The portal was within reach. He moved to stand, and panicked, realising his arms were still tied behind his back. Attempting to get up merely ground his face into the rock, and sent pain spiking dully down his left arm. His ankle throbbed slowly but persistently, promising more discomfort if he ever  _ did  _ manage to get to his feet.

Worse, even if he  _ could  _ manage to stand up and reach the portal, he wouldn’t be able to use it - his D3 remained safely at home in his bedroom. With Leafmon having returned only a few days ago, it had seemed pointless to carry the extra weight on his walk. Now its absence had trapped him here just as much as the bonds around his arms.

_ At least Archnemon didn’t find it, _ he thought dully, looking around for a way out of the situation he found himself in. There wasn’t one. The portal led to a flat shelf of rock, but without the use of his arms there was no way for him to go up or down. Below, the green crown of the forest suggested he would have a considerable distance to fall if he tried. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to think past the fear and pain. Could he get his arms free somehow? If he could get down to the ground and make his way to Gennai’s house, he would be safe.

And he had to tell someone about this Oikawa person, too. He had no way of knowing if the man had managed to get a copy of the seed’s data. If no one had been left to guard him though, that suggested that he wasn’t exactly vital to Oikawa’s success. It wasn’t a comforting thought.

It was a struggle to get upright. His body felt sluggish and slow, as though the air had the consistency of treacle. As he staggered to his feet his head roared, and sparks flashed across his eyes. What time was it? Lunch seemed a distant memory, as did his walk with Leafmon.

_ Leafmon! _ Ken stared out over the forest and around the rocky outcrop, unable to keep from remembering his last visit. Hikari had said that Wormmon had been reborn because he’d died in the digital world. What would happen to his partner if he were killed in the real world? Would he come back then? If he couldn’t get back and find Leafmon, would there even be a way to find out what had happened to his partner at all? The memory of Wormmon, crushed in Archnemon’s hand, replayed in his mind over and over. He sank to his knees, sobbing.

It wasn’t fair. None of it. He’d tried, hadn’t he? Tried to do the right thing. Tried to help the others, and do what he could to make up for his mistakes. And now here he was, trapped with no way home, and once again it was his partner who would suffer. He didn’t care about himself any more, but Leafmon didn’t deserve this. Leafmon had only ever tried to help him, and now the little digimon was stranded in the real world, alone and vulnerable. And meanwhile, he was stuck on this rock, with no way to even tell the others what had happened. They would think he’d abandoned them again - and he may as well have. With no way to stop Oikawa from using the seed, he’d as good as betrayed them. If the seed hadn’t worked the first time, they would just keep him here until it grew back, and try again. He could  _ feel  _ it, the pressure of the seed on the back of his neck; as though someone had a thumb resting against the skin on the inside. Would he become like Takeru, and not even care about his partner any more?

The thought made him feel sick. He didn’t want to be a monster. Didn’t want to be used to spread more misery. There had to be a way to stop it from happening. To prevent Oikawa getting the seed again.

Unerringly, his eyes locked onto the ledge, and the treetops below. There was no one guarding him. No one to stop him. If he wasn’t here, they couldn’t use the seed again, could they? It wouldn’t stop Oikawa from using the data he had already taken, but there was always the chance - and he clung to that glimmer of hope - that it wouldn’t work. If it would help the others, what choice did he have?

He shuffled to the edge of the rocky platform, and looked down. The slope wasn’t sheer, but it was steep. In his current state he’d be lucky to do more than roll off the edge. The prospect of the long and painful descent that would follow made him recoil. He couldn’t do it. It was the right thing - he was sure of that - but he couldn’t bring himself to jump. Not even if it would put the seed forever out of Oikawa’s reach. To jump, knowing what would happen, took more courage than he possessed. Than he ever would possess. He wasn’t some hero from a ballad or tragedy. He was a boy. Just an ordinary boy. Not special. Not important. Not good enough.

Ken backed away from the drop, eyes closed. He sat biting back tears; if Archnemon or Mummymon showed up, he had just enough pride left to not want to be caught crying. 

And somewhere, from the depths of his mind, a thought rose. That was strength of a sort, then, wasn’t it? Something to cling to as comfort. And anyway, if he had jumped, who would know to look for Leafmon? He owed it to his partner to live - to survive somehow, and find the little digimon. After all, no one else knew that Leafmon was in trouble.

It was a task that seemed every bit as daunting as the cliff had been. What if he failed, and spent the rest of his life looking for a partner who was no longer there? What if he never escaped at all?

His momentary courage had deserted him. The reality of his situation was overwhelming - he was stranded in the digital world, with no food, no water, no digimon and no D3. His only chance of survival depended on the people who had kidnapped him and saw him as a host for the dark seed. The longer he survived, the more it would grow inside him, but if he didn’t survive, no one would find Leafmon. It was hopeless, all of it was.

Ken gave up on pride altogether and wept - for all the mistakes he’d made in the past, and for the future he was sure he didn’t have.

 

* * *

 

Night had fallen by the time he became aware of anything again. The sky overhead was clear, littered with a mess of stars, but the air wasn’t particularly cold. He rubbed some of the sleep from his eyes, yawning, and then blinked.

Wait. His arms were free? The drowsiness of waking faded rapidly as he sat up and looked around. The rocky outcrop was nowhere in sight. Instead, he found himself at a hilltop shrine, with a forest behind it and rolling meadows in front. At the bottom of the hill there was a walled complex, with a large traditional-style house in the centre. Lights were on in a few of the windows.

He got to his feet, and looked around him. Astonishingly, the whole hilltop was covered in snow except for a small circle in the ground where he had been lying. How was that possible? He felt perfectly comfortable, so surely it ought to have melted? Tentatively, he knelt down and reached out to touch the white powder in front of him. It was  _ cold! _ He grabbed a fistful of the snow and held it in front of him as it melted between his fingertips. What  _ was  _ this place?

Something about his hand struck him as odd, but he couldn’t quite place it. It was fairly dark, after all, despite the starlight. And there was every chance it was simply down to the length of time his arms had been tied in one position. Anyway, it was no good worrying about his arm. He needed to work out where he was, and how to get home so that he could search for Leafmon.

The lights in the building below were both encouraging and concerning. On the one hand, whoever was down there might know something, or be able to give him directions. On the other, given that the only people who had known he was in the digital world were Archnemon, Mummymon and the mysterious Oikawa, the chances were that he would be heading straight into a trap of some sort.

He took a step forward, out of his circle of clear ground, and winced. It was like walking through a curtain into a wall of cold air. Suddenly he became aware of how ill-equipped he was for the weather. He looked down to see that he was wearing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, both of which looked vaguely familiar. Neither were clothes he counted in his current wardrobe. And come to think of it, the ground looked oddly close…

A chilly breeze picked up, and he shivered. There would be time to worry about whatever had happened to him when he was out of the snow. Already his shoes were cold and damp. He wrapped his arms around himself and marched forward. The snow didn’t seem to carry on past the hill, so if he made his way down the steps at least he might be warm again.

The snow grew thinner towards the bottom of the hill, and the air warmed by degrees. By the time he had reached the grassy meadow surrounding the walled complex, it could have been a summer’s night, instead of an autumn one. Perhaps it was, in whatever kind of place this happened to be. It was strange. Part of him could have sworn he was in the digital world, but another part was certain he wasn’t.

Swallowing heavily, he turned to the walled compound. There was a wide gateway not far along from where he was stood, but no gate. Whoever it was that lived there apparently wasn’t afraid of people wandering in. He stood and stared at the opening for a long while, then sighed and walked in. Surely he’d be safe enough just taking a look around? If he kept a low profile, he could be in and out without anyone knowing he was there.

The building inside was a large, single-storey house built in a traditional style. Ken gaped - this was Gennai’s house! Or the building looked identical, at least - the part of the garden he was walking through didn’t quite match up. There was no bridge over the pond, and a low wall partitioned off a section of garden which looked like a vegetable patch. It was bigger, too. Everything had been built on a slightly larger scale.

The contradiction was jarring. Ken walked up the path towards the house, but held back from knocking at the door. He wanted to find out a little more about this place before drawing attention to himself.

One of the lit windows was right next to the front door, and he walked over to take a look. There were no shutters or blinds to obscure his view, although the glass was quite dusty, which struck him as odd. He’d never seen dust in the digital world. Inside was a fairly large genkan, and then a hallway further into the building. The room was L-shaped, and turned sharply not far in. The hallway seemed to have a few doorways, most of them closed, but there was no sign of anyone about.

Slowly, he made his way around the building, looking into every lit window he could find. One showed a kitchen, with piles of dirty dishes stacked up by the sink, and several cupboards ajar. The bin overflowed with sweet wrappers. Another held only a faint glow, and when he peered in he saw that it was light from another room, shining through a door left slightly open. A curtain had been drawn part-way across the window, but he could just make out the sleeping figure of a boy, lying in a tangle of sheets and cushions.

Ken backed quickly away from the window. Someone lived here -  _ several  _ someones, because the boy had to have parents. Maybe they would help him? Not bothering to look in any more windows, he made his way around the side of the house back to the front door, and reached up to knock.

He halted just before his hand reached the wood. Was he sure about this? He was in a strange place, with no idea of how he’d arrived there, after all. There wasn’t any way to tell what the people who inhabited the house were like. What if they knew Oikawa? What if they’d  _ brought  _ him there?

But what if they hadn’t? This might be his only chance to get help. He stood frozen with indecision for what seemed an eternity, out in the night air. Finally, he gritted his teeth and knocked lightly on the wood.

Nothing.

No sound, no movement. Just the soft sighing of grasses swaying in the starlit breeze. He took a deep breath and tried once more, a little harder.

Again, silence. He held his breath, and for a few seconds thought he heard sounds of movement inside, like footsteps getting closer, and a muffled, high-pitched voice. But there was no other response. He turned away and walked over to the pond. It had a bench beside it, and he sat down, resting his head in his hands.

The longer he sat there, the more wrong everything about his situation seemed to be. Where  _ was  _ he? The last thing he remembered before waking up on the hilltop was lying on the rocky ground in the digital world, with his arms tied firmly behind his back and no hope of escape. How had he gone from there to here?

He looked up as he realised it was growing lighter - he had to have been unconscious longer than he’d realised if it was morning already. He got to his feet, and frowned as he caught sight of his hands again. They  _ did  _ look different. An uneasy feeling settled over him as he looked down and took in the rest of his appearance. The clothes he was wearing, the size of his feet… He dropped to his hands and knees and leant over the edge of the pond.

His reflection stared back, eyes wide and mouth agape in a face which had to be nine years old at most. He looked sharply down at his t-shirt again, and suddenly realised why it seemed so familiar. He’d been to the digital world at least once before. It was how he’d met Wormmon in the first place, although the memory had been buried deep in his mind for…well, a long time.  And he’d been wearing clothes just like the ones he had on now. How had he forgotten all that?  And how was it possible that he’d gotten  _ younger? _

_ This has to be a dream _ , he thought.  _ I passed out in the digital world and I’m dreaming. _

But the feel of the stone beneath his knees, and the crick in his neck from leaning over the pond; they were too real to be mere dreams, surely? He got to his feet and looked around, trying to place his surroundings. A thin mist had fallen as the sun rose, and cast a faint haze over the meadows outside. There were no other signs of habitation as far as he could see.

Whoever the house’s inhabitants were, they seemed a far better option than wandering around on his own. It was nearabout morning already; they would be up soon, and he could ask for directions, or help, or…well,  _ something _ . Ken sat back down on the bench with a sigh. He wished Leafmon were with him. But if he hadn’t thrown his partner from the van, Archnemon would have killed him for certain. At least this way his partner had a  _ chance _ , however slim. And as soon as he found his way back to the real world, he’d stop at nothing to find him.

A scream rang out in the early morning air, filled with terror. Ken flinched, and almost fell off the bench turning around, but another voice had already piped up, high-pitched and utterly incomprehensible. The voices were coming from inside the building. Was it that boy? It had sounded like another child.

The screams died down, and Ken calmed himself enough to realise that he was gripping the bench so tightly that his knuckles had gone white. There was something about that cry which echoed uncomfortably in his mind. Should he leave? But no. The second voice had been a comforting one, he was sure of that. He didn’t need to understand the words to know that it had been trying to calm the boy down.

Shaken, but too lost to know what else to do, he stayed put, staring at the pond. There were fish in there, large ones which moved slowly around in the water; a flash of gold or white scales now and then amid the murky green of the pond weed. It was peaceful, and calming, to sit and watch out for them. A moment of tranquility in the early morning light.

The door latch clicked behind him, and creaked as the door opened. Ken stiffened, then turned around to see a boy standing by the entrance. He was perhaps seven or eight years old, with bright blue eyes, and golden blond hair poking out from underneath a green hat. Ken felt his breath catch in his throat as he spotted the little white creature stood by the boy’s feet, although the resemblance was enough that he hadn’t needed to see it to know who stood there. 

It was impossible.  _ Ridiculous _ . He stood and stared, telling himself that this couldn’t be real, but deep in his gut he knew it was. The boy who stood there smiling cheerfully at him was none other than Takeru Takaishi. 


	7. Faces From the Past

Ken felt frozen to the spot. Either this really  _ was  _ a dream, or he’d just been given half an answer as to what had happened. If it was the former, then no doubt he’d be waking up soon to find he was in just as much trouble as he had ever been. If it was the latter…what then?

It was all he could do to try and keep a smile on his face as Takeru stared at him inquisitively. This was torture. Any moment now Takeru would recognise him. Would he remember what had happened? Did he already?

“Poyo. Poyo poyo!” the little blob said, hopping over. Ken was about to turn tail and run - how could he face Takeru’s partner after all he’d put him through - when to his astonishment, Takeru walked up to him and bowed in greeting, then stared at him expectantly. 

Ken smiled nervously, not sure what to do. All he could think about was the photo from the missing persons report, and the body lying in Gennai’s house.

“Hello, I’m Takeru.” 

It was said so kindly that all Ken could do was nod helplessly. He wanted to say something - anything, really - but the only words in his mind were: _ I know. I’m the reason you’re here. I ruined your whole life.  _

And Takeru didn’t seem to have recognised him, either. What had Koushiro said - that if Gennai tried to remind Takeru of who he was he got hostile? He needed to be careful then, because if he wasn’t, he could set him off and-

Takeru smiled brightly. “Did you want to play?”

Ken almost gaped. His imagination had supplied plenty of potential confrontations with Takeru since his return to the real world, and this was about as far from any of them as he could get. They boy in front of him was unashamedly cheerful, without a trace of any other emotion. It was almost infectious, and Ken had to stop himself nodding. It wasn’t right. He shouldn’t be here. This was a place for Takeru to recover; he should leave before he made things worse...

Takeru marched over and grabbed his hand, tugging him forward. “Come on,  _ this  _ way!” the boy said, pointing further into the gardens. “Me and Poyomon always have fun in the orchard!”

There didn’t seem to be anything for it but to follow - he was too shocked to object, or think of a way out of the situation. And although Poyomon looked at him curiously, the little digimon didn’t make any protests. Ken swallowed as he was led along, wondering if that was because he didn’t want to worry his partner, or if his appearance was different enough that Poyomon didn’t recognise him either. He couldn’t help but think it was the former.

Takeru led the way to an area which seemed to be a jumble of crumbling masonry, with trees growing here and there through the ruined stone walls. It was quite an attractive garden, he supposed, but hardly a suitable playground for a child. Not that that seemed to bother Takeru, who ran straight to the far side of the garden, balancing on a low, tumbledown wall along the way. 

Although he was sure that his own change in appearance was purely an aesthetic one, the longer he watched Takeru’s relentless enthusiasm, the more he began to wonder if what he was seeing was some kind of version of Takeru which had existed in the past. 

It wasn’t a theory which really made sense, but what about his current situation  _ did  _ make sense? 

“Come on, come on, over here!” Takeru cried, pointing to a tree growing at a 45 degree slant out of the base of a wall. He ran over and grabbed the lower branches. “This is the easy one. It’s good for starting out, but the real fun is when you get up to the top…” 

As Ken watched, Takeru scaled the tree, stopping now and then to help Poyomon hop into the branches.

“Over here,” Takeru called, waving with his free hand. “Come  _ on _ , you’ve got to climb up. That’s the whole game!” His face fell. “Don’t you know how?”

For the longest moment, Ken said nothing. He didn’t move - how could he, when his whole body had locked up? This wasn’t Takeru. It was a little boy who looked like him, but the Takeru he knew-

Except he  _ didn’t  _ know Takeru; not at all. He didn’t even know the boy who had fought to protect the digital world from himself, when he had been trying to do so much harm to it. He knew an empty shell, lying on a bed. He knew a mockery of Takeru, riddled with a virus which had corrupted him so thoroughly that over a month after Gennai had given him the antivirus, he was still trapped here, with no memory of anything. 

And now he was trapped here with him, it seemed. Except while Takeru remembered nothing, he remembered it all. Every evil deed, every cruel word, every bit of harm he’d caused…

“Hey,” Takeru said, making him jump. Without his noticing, the boy had climbed down again and walked over. “Don’t you want to play? Me and Poyomon always have fun climbing around here. Look, if you climb up that tree, you can get on the wall, and if you walk along there, you can get to the swing. It goes  _ really  _ high.”

Ken could feel his willpower crumbling in the face of Takeru’s relentless cheer. And anyway, wasn’t this his chance to do something right? If Takeru was stuck here all by himself, he had to get lonely. He owed it to him, really, to offer some company for a while. 

At last he nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he didn’t belong here; that this was Takeru’s place, and if he was found here he would be thrown out. Koushiro had said that Gennai checked on Takeru from time to time, hadn’t he? 

Takeru didn’t seem to expect a reply, anyway. He simply grinned, and beckoned Ken over to the tree. 

“Come on, you go first this time!” Takeru said. “I bet you can’t find all the handholds without me telling you.”

“Poyo poyo!” came a cry from the tree’s branches. 

Takeru laughed. “Don’t mind Poyomon. He can’t talk either, not really. But I bet he was telling you that he found all the handholds, not me! He’s pretty good, for being so small…”

When he realised that Takeru was talking for the sake of it, rather than because he was waiting for a reply, Ken started to climb. It was oddly satisfying to look around for somewhere to hold on, and to pull himself, branch by branch, away from the ground, with Poyomon cheering him on from above and Takeru advising him from below. By the time he reached the swing, he realised he was grinning. 

Takeru wasn’t far behind, and showed him the rest of the way to the rope swing. 

“Watch this!” the blond said, and jumped from the branch with a gleeful cry. He caught the rope swing in mid-air, and crowed triumphantly as he sailed back and forth over the garden. When it came to a halt, he slid down to the ground and looked back up, beckoning for Ken to have a turn. 

“Poyo,” said a soft voice beside him, and he looked down into the face of Takeru’s partner. “Poyo  _ poyo _ .”

He swallowed heavily, wanting to apologise but not knowing where to even start. 

Poyomon shook what he assumed to be its head. “Poyo. Poyo!” it chirped, nodding towards the rope swing. 

“Come  _ onnnn _ ,” Takeru called from below. “You’re taking ages! I could’ve climbed back up again by now.” He grinned. “Bet I make it up there before you get down!” he added, and raced for the tree. 

Ken stared from Poyomon to Takeru and back again. He couldn’t find the words for an apology. Couldn’t even come  _ close _ . But right now, apparently Poyomon either didn’t know who he was, or didn’t mind. And maybe, against all his expectations, this was a chance for him to start over. They were both so  _ young  _ here - it was as though the past had been scrubbed out altogether. And he’d had enough misery to last a lifetime. So seeing as he appeared to be stuck here, where was the harm in following Takeru’s lead? He certainly owed the boy something  _ positive _ , at least.

Ken fixed the rope swing in his sights, and jumped. 

 

* * *

 

By the time the sun began to sink towards the horizon, he’d stopped caring about anything. All the worry and fear had receded to the back of his mind, and he was happy to lose himself in the moment. It was surprisingly easy in whatever this place was. The past seemed to take on a dreamlike quality, and it was hard to think beyond the present. 

The sun had started to near the horizon when Takeru stopped dead in the middle of the garden. Ken looked up, confused, and pointed at the wall in the corner, where fallen leaves and rubble formed “the perfect place for a fort”, as Takeru had put it. He’d been surprised at the breadth of Takeru’s imagination. Initially, he’d gone along with Takeru’s suggestions because he felt that he owed it to whatever was left of him. And then, at some point during the day he’d stopped thinking about it consciously, and started having  _ fun _ . They’d communicated in gestures; whenever he’d tried to speak it felt as though the words got lost along the way. And they hadn’t really  _ needed  _ to talk, anyway.

Now, Takeru simply shook his head slowly, as though he were confused about something. “It’s going to be dark soon,” he said. “Aren’t you going to leave, like the others?”

Ken blinked, wondering what he meant by  _ that _ . What others? He opened his mouth to ask, then sighed as he realised that he really  _ couldn’t  _ talk. Looking up at the sky, he saw the faint pinpricks of stars in the deepening blue above. Perhaps it was for the best. He’d had one day to try and make Takeru’s life better instead of worse. It was more than he had ever expected to get, and certainly more than he deserved.

Takeru was still watching him when he looked down again. He nodded, trying to keep his face cheerful: what right did he have to do anything else?  

“Well, I’ll see you next time,” Takeru said, smiling. “Come on Poyomon. Let’s go find something to eat!” 

Ken stood and watched as Takeru walked back to the front door. They waved at each other - and then the other boy went inside and closed the door without even looking back. It was a strange thing to get worked up over, but Ken couldn’t quite remember the last time he had felt so…excluded. It was all the more uncomfortable a feeling for the fact he knew he deserved worse. 

He looked around at the darkening garden. The sun would set soon, and then what would he do? There was no obvious way to leave - and more to the point, did he  _ want  _ to? If he managed to wake up, it would be to something even less pleasant than his current situation, no doubt. 

Phantom pain flared in his shoulder as he looked around at the garden. If it wasn’t real, why did it feel so much like it was? His hands were red and sore from the bark of the trees he’d climbed, and now that he had been reminded of food the first aching pangs had begun to claw at his stomach. 

He needed to find something to eat - but how? There didn’t seem to be anything around besides the house, which made sense if this was a refuge tailored especially for Takeru’s recovery. And he couldn’t exactly knock on the door and ask to be let in for a snack. Already he was starting to worry that he’d done something wrong by staying the whole day. After all, so far everything  _ else  _ he’d done had made things worse. 

The sun set and the garden grew dark, but not cold. It was balmy as a summer’s evening, which was just as well because Ken couldn’t see an alternative to sleeping outside on the ground. Exhaustion wore at him, even more pressing than his hunger. Now that he’d stopped running around, there was nothing to distract him from the fact he’d exerted himself more in the last three or four days than he had in the whole six weeks before them. 

Wandering tiredly through the gardens, he found a patch of lawn which looked softer than anything else he’d seen. The grass was long and thick, and as he lay down on it, he realised it was blessedly dry. This world might have a lot of mist and cloud, but at least the ground wasn’t damp. Fora while he simply lay on the ground, staring up at the stars. 

His parents would be worried again. He’d promised not to be out for long, after all. And Leafmon, too. Lost and alone on the city streets. Would he ever see his partner again? It seemed unlikely. Then, too, was the fact that the others would most likely believe he had abandoned them again, or worse, betrayed them. It was especially likely if Oikawa got the seed to work.

And he was trapped here, with no way home, and no way to let anyone know what had happened. 

_ This must be how Takeru felt, before I gave him the seed, _ he thought.  _ He should hate me. Everyone should. _

It was his last coherent thought before exhaustion claimed him and he slept. 

 

* * *

 

He woke lying on the rock floor again; cold and uncomfortable with his arms behind his back and a deep, throbbing pain in his neck. Above him, the almost familiar constellations of the digital world shone down from above. There was no one in sight, no one to cry out to for help. He was trapped and alone within reach of an escape he couldn’t use. 

He tried to stand, but cramp spiked its way up his legs. Every movement made his head spin, too. The back of his neck ached with an intensity that made it hard to coordinate his body. He couldn’t think straight. There was something he needed to do; somewhere he needed to be. Something…someone? It was hard to focus on anything. Hard to do anything past the pain in his neck and the inexplicable sensation that he’d made a terrible mistake.

“Help,” he croaked, feeling the word scratch at his parched throat. “Someone,  _ please _ , help me.”

It was hopeless. The knowledge of that fact sat flatly in his mind, but he lacked the energy to do more than note it. The seed inside him was growing again - the pain and pressure in the back of his neck meant he was sure of that. Was it the reason he no longer cared? He knew what it was doing: it was changing him, but what was the point in fighting it? Why not just give in? Give up. He might as well embrace it. Embrace the thing he existed to do.

Giving up meant accepting he would never see Leafmon again. Never see his parents. Never apologise to the others for letting them down. And really, did he need to? It wasn’t worth it. They’d only shun him, after all. He didn’t need them. Didn’t need to make nice gestures only to have them thrown back in his face.

A flicker of colour flitted through his mind. Green leaves in the sun. The sound of boyish laughter. A hand held out to him in a gesture of friendship, from the remains of a person he had hurt so much.

He screwed his eyes shut, trying not to cry tears he wouldn’t be able to replace. No. It might be easier to give up, but that didn’t mean it was  _ right _ . He didn’t want to be a monster again. He didn’t want anyone else ending up like Takeru. He had to fight it, somehow, even if he felt he’d run out of strength.

But he was tired. So tired, and hungry, and thirsty. His neck throbbed, each pulse bringing with it a wave of nausea and bad memories. His body wasn’t strong at all - what did he have to fight with? If Archnemon came back he’d be even more helpless than he had been before. 

More than anything, he wished he could somehow go back to wherever that house was. It was selfish, and wrong, but he was past caring about that - he couldn’t face the thought of lying there until either Archnemon came back for him or…or… Or until she  _ didn’t _ . He didn’t want to lie there with the seed until it changed him. To wait and wonder if he would even notice. What if it had started already?

_ I don’t want to be here, _ he thought desperately, as a wave of dizziness made the edges of the world turn black.  _ I don’t want to be here… _

 

* * *

 

It was almost a relief to wake up and find himself on the hilltop once more. The sky was still dark, but the faint glimmer of an approaching dawn hinted on the horizon as he got to his feet and looked around. 

The dizziness and hunger were less here - present but manageable. And he must have slept at least a little, because there was no crushing exhaustion to weigh him down. 

Ken didn’t linger on the hilltop. It was still freezing cold, and there was something deeply unsettling about the whole place. More than even the house, he felt as though he didn’t belong there. It wasn’t  _ for  _ him. The feeling didn’t ease until he left the last of the snow behind, and made his way across the meadow to the house.

Deep down, he knew that the house and its gardens weren’t made for him either. He was being selfish - he ought to leave Takeru be so the boy could recover. But where else could he go? There didn’t seem to be any alternatives, and already a thick mist was descending. If he hadn’t made it to the gardens already, he might have gotten lost. 

It was strange, though. The skies had seemed perfectly clear, so where had the mist come from? And why was it so much thicker than the day before? The thickness of the mist made it hard to be sure where he was going in the garden; what few landmarks he recognised from the day before looked very different. There was no way he could find the pond with its bench like this - he was just as likely to fall in and drown. 

Instead, he found a low wall with a flat slab atop it, and sat down to wait for daylight. Takeru had mentioned “others”, hadn’t he? Maybe there  _ was  _ someone else around; someone he could follow and ask for help. His legs ached, anyway. It was good to sit and rest. Much as he was stronger in this world, it had been a long time since he’d eaten, and he was still weary from his long convalescence.

It was a cold morning, and although a faint white circle was visible rising above the horizon somewhere beyond the mist, it didn’t add much warmth. Ken wrapped his arms around himself, and huddled on the wall feeling miserable. What was he  _ doing? _ What could he be thinking, coming back? For all he knew, Takeru would remember his past any day now, and then what would happen? What if he triggered some sort of recall and Takeru  _ did  _ turn hostile? He might be justified in taking revenge, but that wouldn’t help Leafmon. He ought to get out there and give Takeru a wide margin. 

“Poyo poyo?”

Ken turned on the spot, startled by the little digimon’s voice. He hadn’t heard the door open. Poyomon hopped over him while Takeru stood a little way behind, gaping. He didn’t look unhappy, just… surprised. 

Ken smiled awkwardly, and raised a hand to wave. Perhaps he should go - he’d pushed his luck enough by staying for one day, and surely Takeru didn’t need him-

“Hello! You came to play again?” 

Takeru’s voice was excited and eager, and the boy ran over, apparently past his surprise.

“No one’s ever visited twice in a row before. What shall we do today? We could climb the trees again… oh, but it all looks a bit damp for that. Well, there’s plenty of other things to do. We could, um… Oh! I know! We can go look in some of the buildings. They’re a bit spooky, but it’s still lots of fun. Maybe we can pretend we’re brave explorers…”

He wasn’t sure if Takeru had always been this much of a chatterbox or if it was another side-effect of the antivirus, but he didn’t have much opportunity to dwell on it. As soon as Takeru was within reach, a hand extended for him to take, and then Takeru was off, leading the way along the paths as confidently as if he did it every day. Ken frowned, reminding himself that he probably  _ did  _ do it every day. Takeru had been here for well over a month, after all. Plenty of time to learn his way around. 

They wandered around the gardens for a while, but every time Takeru seemed to find what he was looking for, his shoulders would droop and he would explain - at length - a reason why this or that particular activity was no good. Ken worked out the pattern after the first few incidents. At any point where a normal conversation would offer an opening for the other person to talk, Takeru filled in the gap. He spoke for Poyomon and Ken as well as for himself. 

It was comforting, in a way. His presence was valued, but not in a personal sense. Thanks to the absence of Takeru’s memory, there didn’t seem to be any real danger - as far as the other boy was concerned, he was just someone to talk at. He was there to nod and agree. 

After a while of wandering around, Takeru sighed, and declared that it was too cold outside. He led the way to the front door of the house, and slipped his shoes off in the genkan. There were no slippers that Ken could see, but Takeru didn’t seem to mind.

“Hey, watch this!” Takeru cried, and set off at a run along the hall before twisting his feet and skidding along the polished wooden floor. His arms pinwheeled as he neared the far wall, but there was no slowing down. He crashed straight into it and fell over, giggling. 

“Now you try,” he said, looking at Ken and grinning. “It’s really fun! Me and Poyomon do it all the time.”

“Poyo poyo!” said the little digimon, hopping onto the wood and leaping into a far smaller and more controlled slide. 

Ken stared at them, watching as Poyomon hopped his way into another skid and ploughed straight into Takeru, who was just getting to his feet. The boy tried to get out of his partner’s way and they both ended up in a tangle on the floor, smiling and laughing. Ken felt his heart twist in his chest. Had he  _ ever  _ laughed with Leafmon? How much time had he wasted?

Takeru regarded him with an open, carefree expression, waving him over. “Come on, it’s fun! You gotta try it!”

Ken looked at his shoes, lined up neatly next to Takeru’s. If he was going to leave, now was probably his last chance to do so easily. To extract himself from Takeru’s company and stop pretending he was a friend. To stop taking advantage of Takeru’s amnesia and do the right thing. To get as far away as possible, where he couldn’t hurt anyone else.

Takeru grinned, and skidded towards him, coming to a halt just a few inches from the genkan. He grabbed Ken’s hand and pulled him forward.

“Come on. You have to run a bit, but not too far, or you’ll run out of space. We can go round the corner, too. There’s lots more room there, but properly you have to slide the whole way, or you’re missing out on the fun. Like this!”

Takeru let go, and took a few quick steps before launching himself into another skid. He didn’t go as far this time, and slid the last part of the way as though he were wearing ice skates. 

It  _ did  _ look fun. He’d enjoyed the day before - an unexpected glimmer of happiness which he was sure he didn’t deserve, but… but Takeru was beckoning him over, calling out for him to stop taking so long and just  _ do it _ . Something about the cheerful insistence wore away at his resolve, and he smiled. He hadn’t done anything like this in  _ years _ . Surely it couldn’t hurt, just for a little while?

The first skid was much too short. He came to a halt after just a couple of feet. Takeru laughed.

“You have to go faster! You’re too careful!”

The second attempt took him to the corner. He could see that the hall was L-shaped, with the longer part leading off into the house. Takeru backed right up to the wall, and set off at a run that sent him skidding all the way down to the other end. Poyomon followed, half skidding and half hopping. They turned to watch him expectantly. 

_ Okay _ , he thought.  _ I’ll stick around for just a little longer. He’s bound to get bored soon enough, isn’t he?  _

The hallway stretched out in front of him, long and clear and smooth. Ken took off as fast as his somewhat short legs could manage, and skidded most of the length of the hall, leaning forward to try and go further. He overbalanced at the end, and landed on the ground in an ungraceful heap with a yelp.

Takeru immediately ran over and helped him to his feet. 

“Are you okay? You were going really fast you know - that was a pretty good try! Maybe we should get some cushions if we’re gonna carry on going though. I have a bruise on my arm, look. And I think Poyomon was a bit annoyed that I fell over on him. I’m sorry Poyomon! The floor’s really good for skidding though, isn’t it! I always play like this when it’s cold outside. The cottage isn’t as much fun as playing outside, but there are a few things to do. Hey, I’ve got an idea! I’ll show you around! We can get the cushions after. Look, my room’s just over here!”

Ken followed, slightly taken aback by the abrupt change in Takeru’s chain of thought. He’d noticed the other boy’s habit the day before to an extent, but it was still quite jarring. Everything about Takeru’s attitude was in the present; in the now. If he had still harboured any doubts that the antivirus had had a serious effect on Takeru, they would have fled in face of the evidence. 

Takeru led him to a smallish room with knick-knacks and toys scattered here and there. It had been tidied in the vague, imprecise sense of someone who would probably do a better job if they weren’t too busy doing other things - toys and paper were in rough piles here and there, and the floor was generally clear, but nothing was especially  _ neat _ . 

From inside the room, it was more obvious that Takeru slept not so much in a bed as in a nest. Most likely it had been made neatly at one time, but now it was a snarl of blankets, with cushions and pillows stacked here and there. 

More than anything, it was a room which demonstrated that Takeru was alone. It was a  _ child’s  _ room - the sort of room a child might end up with without the influence of a parent to straighten out the sheets and tidy away old drawings or toys. 

“Poyo,” said a soft voice by his side, as Takeru grabbed a handful of the cushions from his bed.

Ken looked down to see the little digimon watching him carefully. He bit the inside of his lip. Did Poyomon want him to leave? He wouldn’t blame him if he did. Takeru might not remember what had happened, but he was sure the same couldn’t be said of the boy’s partner. 

“Here, take these!” Takeru said, apparently oblivious to the silent communication between his two companions. He thrust a pile of cushions into Ken’s hands. “We’ll get some more from the other rooms. Let’s see how many we can find - it’ll be the biggest pile  _ ever! _ ”

Ken nodded wordlessly, and followed Takeru back into the hallway. After dropping the cushions in a heap, he was led into a much larger room, which was so cluttered with assorted furniture and other junk that all he could do was stop and stare. 

Chairs, tables and other assorted items of furniture were stacked and gathered everywhere along with a multitude of boxes, so densely that there was hardly space between them to move around. It was like nothing he had ever seen. What in any world  _ was  _ this place? 

Takeru watched him with a curious expression on his face: mixed surprise and amusement.

“Haven’t you ever seen a house before?” he asked. “It’s nothing special, really. Come on, let’s get those cushions.”

For a moment, Ken just stared at Takeru as he ran off into the jumble of furniture. But it made sense that Takeru wouldn’t think it out of the ordinary, really it did. If he had no memories, what did he have to compare it to, after all? The thought rested uneasily in his mind. How would Takeru feel about all of this if he ever managed to remember who he was?

Takeru reappeared in front of him, frowning. 

“Didn’t you want to play?” he asked, sagging. “Hmm, maybe you’re right. I guess the skidding game  _ is  _ kinda boring after a while. What could we do instead? There isn’t really much else around. All the fun stuff is outside, really. I  _ hate  _ misty days. They’re no fun at all.”

Ken shook his head. He swallowed, trying to find the words to explain how he felt, but it was as though there were a block. As though something somewhere had disconnected, and the words were getting lost on their way from his brain to his mouth. 

Naturally, Takeru completely misinterpreted what he had been trying to say. 

“You think they  _ can  _ be fun? Well, I never had much fun around here. It’s all just musty furniture and no toys. You can’t kick a ball in here or climb too far - the furniture all wobbles. Plus, it’s not so exciting doing that anyway.”

Ken frowned, and looked down at Poyomon anxiously. Was the little digimon going to get annoyed that he wasn’t playing along? What could he do, exactly, if he wasn’t able to talk and explain things? Poyomon was watching him, but there were no traces of irritation or anger on the little digimon’s face. Just a calm, almost expectant look, as though he were waiting for something.  

For a moment, Ken felt as though he’d failed a test. He was trying to do things right, wasn’t he? What good was he then, if he couldn’t solve a problem of what to do. He’d been a  _ genius _ , and now he was stood there with a mind which seemed to be made of mud. He didn’t know how to do this. It had been  _ years  _ since he’d viewed the world the way Takeru did at that moment. 

Osamu had been alive.

He’d stopped playing games when his brother had died. First it had been because he was too sad; then he was just out of the habit. Studying more, and…and… and maybe it was another effect of whatever this place was, or maybe it was just that it was a bad time in his life which he’d blocked out, but his memory was hazy of that part of his life. It all blurred until his time as the Digimon Kaiser.

How did you play games? More importantly, how could he play  _ here _ ? The stacks of furniture were far from secure, for one. It looked unsafe. Well, it might not be a game, but he could fix  _ that _ . Takeru liked climbing, didn’t he? Maybe they could arrange the furniture into an obstacle course.  

He smiled, and raised his hands to indicate that he’d had an idea. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so hard after all. 


	8. Fun and Games

It took Takeru a few minutes to catch on to Ken’s plan. When he did, it was with the same exuberant cheer he had brought to everything else. In no time at all they were dragging chairs and tables clear of a space in the centre of the room, although without the ability to speak, Ken’s initial intentions were somewhat misinterpreted.

They worked together, gathering cardboard boxes and arranging them in and around chair and table legs to form a wall. Inside their makeshift fortification, chairs in the corners became lookout posts, and dust sheets which Takeru found in another room made a great hall. Once again, Takeru’s imagination launched from a starting point and filled the gaps in Ken’s. In return, Ken made sure to secure the stacked chairs to one another with string which he had found in the drawers of an old-fashioned desk in the corner. 

He had to admit, the finished fort looked a lot more impressive than an obstacle course, no matter how irritating it had felt at first to not be understood. 

For a while they clambered around the fort, tinkering with things and adjusting the fastenings for the great hall. A gap in the tables served as a gateway, which Ken filled with a seat cushion taken from a musty armchair in the corner of the room. 

Takeru regarded it, grinning. “We did a good job!” he said, looking at Poyomon and Ken in turn. “I think it’s the best fort ever.”

Ken held out an umbrella, offering it handle first to the other boy with a small smile. Takeru accepted it, although he looked confused until Ken brandished his own umbrella in both hands as though he were practising kendo. 

“Oh, of course! Takeru cried, darting inside the fort. “I’m defending first, okay! You and Poyomon can be the invaders.”

Ken managed to keep smiling, although most of the humour in his expression evaporated instantly. He glanced nervously at Poyomon; this hadn’t been what he had planned at  _ all _ . He’d imagined the umbrellas as swords on a whim; decorations to match their fort.

But Poyomon didn’t seem to mind, and hopped merrily onto a stack of cushions outside their fort, poyoing with apparent menace. Ken nodded uneasily, and raised his mock sword, but his heart wasn’t in it, not even for pretend conquest. After a few rounds, swapping now and then from invader to defender, he cast his eyes around for something else and spotted a pile of cardboard boxes which they had gathered but not needed. 

He ran over, and pulled a couple into the clear space which had been left by the fort, placing them open side up and climbing into one. Takeru caught on as soon as he mimicked rowing, and as quick as that, the game had changed. 

They spent the rest of the day mock boating, with breaks now and then to storm the castle together. Ken lost track of time, caught up in the world he and Takeru had managed to create. Before he knew it, the sky outside was dimming, and Poyomon was hopping over to the door. 

Ken and Takeru followed, although the latter quickly picked his partner up and took the lead, walking into a room which turned out to be the kitchen. Even more than Takeru’s bedroom, this was a room which clearly lacked an adult’s eye. Plates were stacked high by the sink, although half of them didn’t look dirty at all, and the cupboards were filled with crisps, biscuits, and snacks. There was nothing which required cooking of any kind.

Takeru stared at the cupboards for a minute, brow furrowed. When he turned back to Ken his face was lit up by a smile. 

“I have an idea! If we take some food into the other room, we can have a…a… We can eat in the fort! You help carry things, okay?”

Without waiting for an answer, Takeru darted off, rummaging around for a tray. He loaded it high with cakes and sweets and other assorted snacks, then offered it to Ken. 

“Let’s go!”

To Ken, whose exhaustion was rapidly catching up with him, it was like something out of a dream. Heck, the entirety of the last two days felt that way. And there was no way to prove they  _ weren’t _ , after all. 

He sat in the fort a few minutes later, staring blankly at the food which Takeru had offered. He needed to eat, but his hunger had settled back to a dull ache and faint nausea - and Takeru seemed to subsist entirely on a diet of sweets and cakes. Rich, sweet food. The thought of eating any of it made his stomach turn. 

Hunger got the better of him in the end, along with the confused expression on Takeru’s face. He grabbed a couple of manju, and nibbled the slightly less sickly outer layer. Was this seriously all the other boy ate? Then again, Takeru’s real body was being taken care of at Gennai’s house. Whereas his own…

Ken managed to pick at a few more of the plainer snacks at Takeru’s urging, although the food seemed to stick in his throat. Poyomon watched him throughout, and to his surprise nudged some crackers his way towards the end of the meal, when Takeru had started looking around for something else to do. 

He pocketed them rather than try to eat anything else at that point, nodding his thanks at the little digimon before getting to his feet. It was an unexpected gesture from Takeru’s partner. Gratitude that he hadn’t tried to tell Takeru who he was, or disrupt his recovery? Either way, it was a relief to know that Poyomon wasn’t going to make a scene about his presence. 

“Hey!” Takeru called, grabbing his shoulder and handing him an umbrella. “Come on, we can be samurai together! Poyomon, you’re the mean old shogun. You gotta be really grumpy, okay?”

“Poyo!” the little digimon said, hopping up onto the walls of the fort. 

Takeru turned back to Ken. “Now we defeat him, okay? It’s time he took a nap!”

Ken looked up at Poyomon to see that the little digimon was staring at Takeru and himself in turn. He felt very self-conscious of a sudden, but raised his umbrella and forced a smile to his face. 

It wasn’t many minutes later that Takeru himself began to yawn. Ken looked outside and was surprised to see that it was completely dark. How late had it gotten, exactly? Without a clock on the wall, there wasn’t really any way to tell, but it had to be late. 

He sighed, and put down his umbrella sword. He’d already pushed his luck by staying past the point when the mysterious “others” would have gone home, although Takeru hadn’t mentioned them today at all. It wasn’t right to intrude any further. 

Takeru followed him to the genkan, and sat watching as he slipped on his shoes, yawning some more. He waved as Ken opened the large front door, and Ken waved back, looking at the small shape of Poyomon nestled in the other boy’s lap. There was no partner waiting to share the long night with him. 

But that wasn’t Takeru’s fault - it was his own. And he was glad, really, that Takeru wasn’t alone in this strange place. 

Thoughts of Leafmon rose in his mind as he walked around the side of the cottage to the grassy patch where he had slept the night before. He hadn’t realised how important his own partner was until it was almost too late. Hell, there was every chance it was too late  _ now _ . 

Once again, the fog had lifted with the end of the day, and it was easy to find the right place. He sat alone on the grass for a long time, mind racing with too many thoughts to even have a hope of getting to sleep. He’d not long laid down, resigning himself to a long night spent staring at the stars, when the sounds of movement on the path set him sitting bolt upright again.

“Poyo?” said a voice softly, and he relaxed a little.

_ But what’s Poyomon doing out here? _ he thought, as the white, ghostly shape of the small digimon appeared on the path. 

“Poyo poyo!” 

There was a bob up and down, and Poyomon hopped first closer then further away, before turning to look at Ken and nodding back the way it had come. 

Ken got to his feet and walked over to Poyomon, guessing that the little digimon wanted to be followed. He was led back towards the house, where a few cushions sat by the front door. Poyomon hopped over to them, and then turned to look at Ken.

“Poyo. Poyo poyo.”

_ For me? _ he thought incredulously.  _ Why is Poyomon doing this? _

“Poyo,” the little digimon said, nodding as though it had read Ken’s mind. It nudged one of the cushions towards him. 

After staring for a minute or so more, Ken nodded and bowed to Poyomon in thanks. He grabbed the cushions, and stopped.

_ Thank you _ , he wanted to say, but the words just wouldn’t come. 

“Poyo.” 

Again, it was as though Poyomon had understood him anyway. Takeru’s partner bobbed its head in a half-nod, half-bow, and turned to go back indoors. 

Ken stared at the door after it closed for a few minutes longer, then, cushions in hand, returned to the grassy patch and tried to get some sleep. 

 

* * *

 

When he woke the sky was still dark, but the stars had faded, and a glow on the horizon promised an imminent dawn. 

Someone was crying. Not quietly either: loud sobs and whimpers interspersed with cries for someone to stop something.

It was Takeru - it had to be. There was no one else  _ here _ , after all. No one else to overhear as they cried out through what had to be nightmares, because the disjointed pleas had the ring of sleep-talking about them. Ken screwed his eyes shut, and clung to the cushion for a few seconds. It could be coincidence, couldn’t it?

No. No, there was only one reason for Takeru to have nightmares. 

There was no hope of sleeping as Takeru sobbed through bad dreams, and the high, piping voice of Poyomon rang out into the dawn, obviously trying to either wake or soothe the boy. Ken gave up on his makeshift bed and wandered around the gardens, trying to find something which would take his mind off the guilt. 

It wasn’t easy. No matter where he went, he couldn’t escape the scenes his memory delivered him, replayed over and over again. Perhaps he  _ did  _ deserve to be here with Takeru, where he could see the full impact of what he’d done. The constant reminder of his misdeeds and their consequences certainly made a fitting punishment. 

His feet carried him along without much intervention from his mind, leading him past the pond; round and round the garden in aimless circles, staring out through the mist. It was thinner this morning, a fine veil over the world rather than a blanket. In the distance, just visible through the haze, he thought he could make out the glimmer of sunlight on water.

Something about the morning air soothed the worst of his worries away; it was hard to hold onto any thought for long. He found a low wall facing out across the meadow to the distant water and sat down, watching as the sun rose hazily in front of him. His mind felt blissfully empty.

The morning’s haze had begun to clear when a voice behind him cried:

“It’s you!”

He flinched, and turned to see Takeru stood behind him, holding Poyomon in his arms. 

There was an almost accusatory tone in Takeru’s voice, and Ken had the sudden panic that he had remembered; that any moment now the recriminations would start. And they would be deserved. How could he expect anything else? He  _ shouldn’t  _ expect anything else. He should be on his knees, apologising right at that very moment.

Ken tensed as Poyomon hopped down from Takeru’s arms and bounded over, but there was no anger in the little digimon’s expression or voice, only gentle encouragement. He couldn’t imagine what for. Poyomon knew, more than anyone, how terrible a person he was. 

Part of him was glad that digimon didn’t remember anything from when they were being controlled by a dark spiral - and the rest of him was immediately ashamed for thinking of it. Still, it was the only thing which gave sense to Poyomon’s behaviour. The little digimon had no memory of what had happened between being captured and being freed from the spiral. 

Did that make waking up only to turn into Devimon better or worse?

He got to his feet, and looked away from the pair. Why was he doing this? Who was he kidding? He shouldn’t  _ be  _ there. Takeru had no idea who he was, and it was deeply, deeply wrong of him to just show up and act as though everything was fine after all he’d done to the other boy. He was a fraud. He ought to leave, and stop this charade before it went any further. 

“It’s okay!” Takeru said, making him cringe. No. It  _ wasn’t  _ okay.

“We don’t have to play inside again today,” Takeru went on, unwittingly condemning Ken with every cheerful word. “If you want to explore, we can do that instead. I don’t mind what we play really. Everything’s fun when you have friends!”

Ken turned and stared at him, not sure he could breathe.  _ Friends? _ It was some kind of sick joke, surely. They weren’t -  _ couldn’t be  _ \- friends. When Takeru remembered…

_ If _ Takeru remembered. Was there really anything left of the boy he had been before? As though to prove his point, Takeru stepped forward and held out his hand, smiling. There was no accusation on his face, just honest acceptance.

“So are we gonna go play? Like I said, I don’t mind going exploring, but we should probably get some food first. You coming?”

Ken took a deep breath and closed his eyes, preparing to shake his head. But what was the point in that? Takeru didn’t remember any of what had happened, and wouldn’t understand now, if his “friend” left. And if he stayed, he wouldn’t be alone. 

His resolve crumpled. Reaching out, he took Takeru’s hand, nodding. He didn’t dare look up or meet Poyomon’s eyes as he allowed himself to be led into the cottage, where an assortment of snacks awaited them for breakfast. Apparently, only the time of day marked what meal they were eating. 

With a slightly more substantial meal inside him than his previous one, they made their way outside again. It was a far clearer morning than the day before, and Takeru was open about his eagerness to explore. Apparently it wasn’t something he often had a chance to do.

In the back of his mind, questions loomed which he couldn’t ask. Where were they going? How far had Takeru explored already, and were there any other people in this strange place? It was frustrating to be suddenly mute. To go from being in charge of everything to having no voice at all. Reduced to following the shell of a former enemy in order to stave off loneliness. 

Ken stopped sharply when he realised where his thoughts were leading. No. It was the seed - it  _ had  _ to be the seed, because he would never think something like that of his own accord, would he?  

There was no way for him to know with any certainty. It had been inside him for years. When had it started? How much of his personality was the seed, and how much was just the person he would have been anyway? And at this point, was there even a distinction between the two?

He wasn’t sure if it was better or worse that he was trapped alone with his thoughts. That Takeru walked ahead of him, cheerfully oblivious of the thoughts circling inside the head of his “friend”. Either way, he had to work harder to get rid of them. He was sick of being monstrous. He  _ wasn’t  _ the Kaiser any more, and he certainly wasn’t going to give in and let the seed take over again. Not here. Not in the one place where Takeru might have a chance to recover.

“We’re nearly there!” Takeru said over his shoulder, pointing at what Ken realised was a lakeshore. “Poyomon, look! It’s the same lake as before, see?”

Ken frowned. What was  _ that  _ supposed to mean? What other lake could it actually be? 

“Hey, look! I bet I can throw a stone further than you!” Takeru cried as they reached the water’s edge. The bank was sandy, but there were plenty of pebbles and stones which had washed up along the shore. 

It wasn’t exactly the most engrossing of activities, but Takeru was watching expectantly, and really, what else could he do? Trying to fix a believable smile on his face - he wasn’t convinced about his success - he walked down the shore and looked for a good pebble. They walked for a while, throwing the rounder stones, while Takeru crowed with delight each time he found a shell, and spoke at length about nothing in particular. Apparently he simply enjoyed having someone to talk  _ to _ . 

And there was something about the place - the sense that it really was just the three of them, alone in the world - that made him understand that feeling only too well. At one point, Takeru ran on ahead to gather some sticks and shells. Ken hung back, and crouched down on the sand, gesturing for Poyomon.

_ ~You know who I am?~ _ he wrote, using his finger to mark the characters into the shore. His hand shook.

Poyomon nodded.

Ken sighed. _ ~I’m sorry~ _

The little digimon regarded him carefully, then blinked and hopped over to the writing, scrubbing it out. Ken flinched as he heard footsteps behind him, and hurried to help blot out his messages.

“Hey! Hey, look!” Takeru cried. “I found a- oh, what are you doing?”

Ken panicked, then screwed his eyes shut and quickly drew a rough picture of Poyomon. Takeru laughed.

“That’s really good! I never thought of making pictures in the sand before. I guess I don’t come down to the lake all that much.” 

He knelt on the sand beside the two of them, and screwed up his face with concentration as he too drew a picture of the little digimon. Takeru sat back on his heels and looked at it critically. 

“It’s  _ okay _ . But I think the real Poyomon is better. Come on. I wonder if there’s a sea monster in the lake!”

Poyomon looked up sharply. “Poyo?”

“It’d have big claws and funny hair,” Takeru went on, holding up his hands over his face to mimic the hair. “We’d better run away Poyomon, quick! Come on, you too!”

The last few words were directed at Ken, and moments later they were sprinting along the beach, fleeing an imaginary foe. When they stopped, out of breath, Ken found a stick nearby and drew a picture of a monster.

“No,” Takeru said, shaking his head. “Not like that. Like…” He stopped, frowning. “I don’t know. I’m not sure what it would look like,  _ exactly _ , but not like that. Anyway, let’s go see what’s behind that hill!”

They didn’t go much further, after it turned out the lake just continued on past the little hill Takeru had indicated. The other boy didn’t seem to want to let the cottage out of his sight, and the further along the shore they walked, the more agitated he got. Eventually, they headed back, collecting shells and stones along the way.

A few were large enough to use as makeshift shovels, which gave Ken an idea. It took a couple of minutes for Takeru to understand the concept without words being exchanged, but before long they were hard at work, gathering sand to shape into sculptures on the beach. 

They waded, too, although Takeru didn’t seem interested in going far from the shore. Bit by bit, Ken lost himself in the moment, his worries ebbing to the back of his mind as he found himself caught up in varying games. Sand-sculptures turned to mountains, which they explored with Poyomon. The trees which overlooked the lake bore fruit which they ate for lunch, although Ken found that he still didn’t have much of an appetite. He offered most of it to Poyomon instead - digimon always seemed to be hungry, and if he couldn’t look after his own partner, the very least he could do was be nice to Takeru’s. 

The three of them wandered back and forth during the afternoon, gathering shells and stones which they piled into mountains, each racing to beat the other and make the tallest. Poyomon hopped around, helping and hindering them both by turns. 

At last, the sun began to set, and Ken looked up at the sky in wonder. Where had the time gone? Takeru looked up too, and shrugged.

“I guess it’s time to go back,” he said placidly. “Come on Poyomon!” 

The little digimon hopped sleepily up into Takeru’s arms, and they set off. After a few minutes, Takeru turned to Ken:

“Poyomon’s  _ heavy _ ,” he said. “You carry him for a bit, okay?”

There wasn’t much time for Ken to do anything but nod before the little white digimon was thrust into his arms. He walked carefully, holding Poyomon as though the little creature were made of glass -  _ slippery  _ glass, about to fall and smash. At any moment he expected Poyomon to make a complaint. 

Takeru took Poyomon back again a short while later, but as they walked across the meadow, with the sunset ahead of them, he sighed again. 

“You’re too heavy, Poyomon! You gotta stop eating so much!”

Ken held out his hands this time, and Takeru gratefully handed his partner over. Poyomon looked almost as tired as he felt, and barely moved other than to poyo softly a few times, rolling his eyes at Takeru, and then settle into Ken’s arms and fall asleep, smiling contentedly.

He stared, not entirely able to believe it. Takeru looked over and grinned.

“I guess he’s even more tired than me! Well, you gotta carry him from here then, okay?”

Ken nodded, and hugged the little digimon carefully as they made their way back to the cottage. If he looked away - up at the sky, or out over the fields into the distant, misty horizon, he could just about convince himself it was Leafmon in his arms instead. That he was walking home after a day with his partner, and that everything was as perfect as it could ever get. The moment wouldn’t last long. But it was something.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, he made sure to be sitting outside when Takeru left the cottage. The part of him nagging him to leave seemed to be getting quieter each day. They explored several of the gardens and outbuildings, until inside one of them they stumbled into some sacking and dislodged what felt like a hundred years of dust all over themselves. When they emerged back into the gardens in a cloud, coughing and choking, they found it had turned them both grey from top to toe. 

For a moment Ken stared at Takeru. Grey. Grey skin, grey hair… but his eyes were blue, and the smile on his face was one of amusement rather than cruelty. Takeru grinned at him, and pointed.

“You look like a ghost!” he said, and laughed. “Do I?”

The spell was broken. Ken nodded, and felt a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Takeru  _ did  _ look pretty ridiculous. 

Takeru shook his head from side to side, and Ken turned away, coughing as more clouds of dust billowed off the boy. He held his hands up, as though that would help ward off the dust.

“Oh, you want me to stop?” Takeru said, grinning. “Well in  _ that  _ case… You better run real fast or I’ll shake dust in your face again! Ready? Go!”

Ken blinked, then turned and ran as he saw Takeru scoop up some of the sacking they had dragged out of the barn in their haste to escape to daylight. He shook his head as he ran, grinning as he heard Takeru cough and splutter behind him. In a few minutes, he’d forgotten that Takeru’s appearance had ever bothered him at all.

 

* * *

 

Days passed. He lost track of how many. It was hard to tell them apart when they were all so similar. 

Before long, he understood what Takeru meant by “the others”. One morning, sat in his usual spot, he saw someone walking into the garden from outside. He gaped. Surely that couldn’t be…

He got to his feet and raced over to a boy with a distinctive mane of brown hair, then stopped abruptly. It  _ had  _ to be Taichi, but this was a version of him several years younger than the boy who had held Yamato back. He wore the same pair of goggles that Daisuke had and…and walked past Ken without giving him a second glance.

It was misty that morning, but Ken was sure Taichi had to have seen him. And while he didn’t relish the thought of another confrontation with the older boy - even here, Taichi seemed to be a few years older than him - the fact remained that Taichi was his best bet at getting help. So far as he knew, there was nothing wrong with  _ his  _ memory. What if he knew a way to get out, or could take a message back about Leafmon?

Ken walked up behind him and cleared his throat. He couldn’t talk, true, but no doubt they’d find a way around that problem-

Taichi turned round, and gave him a blank look. He frowned slightly, as though confused, then shrugged and turned back the way he had been facing before. 

Didn’t he recognise him? What was going on? He was  _ sure  _ it had to be Taichi - he’d never seen hair like that on anyone else, and people didn’t change  _ that  _ much as they grew up. Steeling himself, Ken walked round and stood in front of the older boy. 

No response. Taichi looked down at him briefly, with the same expression of slight confusion, then returned to staring at the front door of the cottage. 

Ken edged away. It was starting to get a little creepy. There was something odd about the way he just… _ stood _ there, almost stock still. People didn’t stand like that. They fidgeted, or looked around. And they reacted more. Even if Taichi had somehow lost his memory, surely the sight of another person ought to have garnered more interest than a slightly puzzled expression and a shrug. 

_ It’s not him, _ Ken thought, shuddering.  _ It looks like him, but that can’t be Taichi at all. He’s too…too wooden. _

Should he warn Takeru? What about Poyomon? The more he thought about it, the more he felt that trying to tell Takeru would be a bad idea, but surely Poyomon would know what to do? Then again, so far as he knew, Gennai had  _ made  _ this place. What if the false Taichi was supposed to be there? 

He stood a short distance away from the doppelganger, frozen with indecision. The longer he waited, the more he became certain that he wasn’t meant to interfere. But then again, what if he were wrong? Could he really trust his own judgement? 

The latch on the door clicked, and Takeru emerged from the house, with Poyomon by his side. He looked at the doppelganger and smiled. 

“Hello!”

Poyomon hopped over, coming to a halt at not-Taichi’s feet. 

“Poyo poyo!” There was no concern in the little digimon’s voice, and Ken relaxed. Obviously, creepy as the whole thing was, it was meant to be happening.

“I guess you’re here instead of the boy today, eh?” Takeru said, walking over. “It’s funny having a different friend again. What shall we do today? Did you want to climb the trees? Or how about the barns? Oh, oh! Of course! We should play soccer!”

The doppelganger had started to act more human with the appearance of Takeru, and responded to Takeru’s words with gentle nods or shakes of the head which Ken would have believed were natural were he not watching closely. As it was, he realised that each movement was the same. Gentle nod. Another identical gentle nod. Pause. And then an enthusiastic nod at soccer. 

Takeru grinned, and the trio disappeared off down one of the paths in the garden. Poyomon hung back, looking around. Ken had a feeling that Poyomon was the only one of the three who knew he was still there. 

“Poyo?” came a gentle, enquiring call. 

Ken almost came out from his hiding place, but at that moment Takeru looked back, and urged his partner to hurry up. Poyomon cast one more look around the garden, and then followed, disappearing out of sight. 

_ The others _ , he thought, sitting down on the path.  _ That must be what Takeru meant _ . 

It was more than a little unsettling to learn that prior to his arrival, Takeru’s only companions had been Poyomon and… and whatever not-Taichi was. Presumably something Gennai had come up with to prompt memories of the people Takeru needed to remember, and to give him someone to talk to, seeing as the real versions were too busy fending off Archnemon and Mummymon. 

By rights,  _ he  _ ought to be helping them. He’d promised he would. They were  _ depending  _ on him to help. Instead, he was here; an unnecessary extra. And seeing how relaxed Takeru had appeared around the doppelganger only proved as much. It explained a lot of Takeru’s attitude, too. He treated Ken as someone to talk  _ at _ , not  _ to _ , and he had to have learnt that behaviour from interacting with the artificial versions of his friends. It wouldn’t make any difference whether he were there or not.

He stayed out of sight for the remainder of the day, until he saw not-Taichi walking out of the gardens. He was tempted to follow, and see where he -  _ it  _ \- went, but the thought of spending any more time around the copy than necessary made his skin crawl. The less he thought about the artificial boy the better. 


	9. A New Normal

One more missing piece of the puzzle was filled in a few days later. At least, it  _ felt  _ like a few days later, although when Ken counted back the mornings he realised there had only been one day in between not-Taichi’s visit and the appearance of Gennai.

That Gennai didn’t see him was more down to luck than anything else. The sun was up, and Ken was sat by the pond waiting for Takeru to come back outside with something he “just had to get”.  He sat up straight when he heard the faint but clear sound of footsteps from somewhere outside the walls. Sighing, he hopped down from the bench. If it was a “friend” for Takeru, there was no way he wanted to hang around. Still, he was curious as to which of them it would be. Were they  _ all  _ younger here? 

It wasn’t too misty that morning, and the sunlight cast faint shadows on the ground, long and watery, but very much there. It was the shadow which gave Ken the warning he needed to flatten himself against the wall, and let a tall, unforgettable figure walk past. If Gennai had intimidated him before, he was far more imposing from the perspective of his nine-year-old body. 

Tall and sombre, Gennai strode up to the front door of the cottage.

“Takeru?” he called, although he didn’t knock, or pull open the door which Takeru had left ajar in his haste. 

The boy in question appeared a moment later, carrying a large rucksack. Poyomon hopped along beside him.

“Oh, hello,” Takeru said. He sounded disappointed. 

“Hello, Takeru,” Gennai said. “I won’t keep you long. I’ve just come to ask some questions.”

“I know, I  _ know _ ,” Takeru said, sighing. His shoulders drooped.

Gennai knelt, so his eyes were level with Takeru’s. From where he was hidden, Ken couldn’t see the expression on the man’s face, but Takeru certainly didn’t look impressed. 

“How old are you, Takeru?” Gennai asked.

Takeru rolled his eyes. “I’m eight. I told you before. Why do you keep asking me that?”

Gennai didn’t answer, although he looked down at Poyomon. The little digimon stayed silent, busy looking around. Ken realised why when they made eye-contact. Poyomon was looking for  _ him? _

He gestured frantically, shaking his head and waving his hands in front of him in such a way that he hoped Poyomon would understand.  _ Please don’t let him say anything, _ he thought. 

Gennai looked curiously at Poyomon, but at that moment the little digimon looked away again - back at Takeru - and bobbed in the way that Ken had come to understand was a shrug. Ken bit back a sigh of relief. 

“Hmmm,” Gennai said, but instead of looking around, he turned back to Takeru. “Have you thought about going home yet?”

Takeru laughed. “But this is my home! You’re the one who’s visiting, remember? You always get in such a muddle.”

Gennai sighed. “Can you  _ really  _ be happy here, all by yourself?”

This time, Takeru frowned, screwing his face up. In the space of a sentence his expression went from amused to worried. For a moment, Ken thought Takeru was going to cry.

“I’m not alone!” Takeru snapped, after a few seconds of silence. “I… I have  _ Poyomon! _ And my friends! And… and where else would I be? This is… I’ve always been here. This is my home. This is where…this is where I  _ am _ . I can’t-” He broke off suddenly, clutching the sides of his head. 

“Why do you always ask that! It just makes my head hurt and I don’t like it at all!” Takeru yelled. “Go away! Go away and leave me alone!”

Ken stared, not sure what to do or say in the wake of Takeru’s sudden outburst. His heart hammered in his chest. The Takeru before him wasn’t happy or cheerful. He was a small child, lost and confused, and even Gennai didn’t have any answers - he just got to his feet, sighing, and looked down at Poyomon.

“I’m sorry,” he said to the little digimon, then looked back at Takeru. “I’ll leave you in peace now, Takeru. Please feel better soon.”

Wincing, Ken shrank against the wall as Gennai turned around and walked back down the pathway out of the garden. Takeru was crying, clinging to Poyomon with one arm and pressing the palm of his hand against his head with the other, tears streaming down his face. As Ken watched, Takeru sat heavily on the ground and let go of his partner, clutching at his head with both hands. 

Ken slowly backed away, down the path which led to the outer walls. He couldn’t bring himself to approach Takeru in that state - he was pretty sure he was on the verge of tears himself. This was all wrong. It wasn’t right; wasn’t fair. There ought to be someone other than Poyomon to comfort him - but how could  _ he  _ go, when it was all his doing in the first place? 

Which way had Gennai gone? Maybe it was time to own up about his presence and ask for help. Gennai was real - he  _ had  _ to know a way out. And he could get the others to search for Leafmon. How could he have been so stupid and selfish as to hide? He’d had the perfect chance and he’d blown it. 

He walked briskly down the path and found himself standing at the opening in the wall around the cottage. Which way would Gennai have gone? If he didn’t hurry, it would be too late. He had to find Gennai before he was left behind here: alone with Takeru, who could speak but not remember, and Poyomon, who was the other way round. 

Movement at the corner of his left eye caught his attention, and he turned to see Gennai walking up the steps of the snowy hill. He started, and ran after him, wishing he could call out and attract some attention. Gennai disappeared from sight as he neared the foot of the hill, having wandered somewhere at the top. In his haste to catch up, Ken stumbled, and slipped on a patch of ice hidden in the snow.

He landed heavily in a slushy drift at the base of the hill, and bit back tears.  _ No!  _ He had to catch up; had to tell Gennai he was here - had to get  _ help! _ Even if Gennai was angry, it didn’t matter any more. Leafmon needed him - and  _ everyone  _ needed Leafmon. 

Ken scrambled to his feet, and threw himself at the stairs, ignoring the buzzing in his head and the pressure at the back of his neck. His body seemed heavier of a sudden as the cold air buffeted him, and he wrapped his arms tightly around himself as he staggered up the steps, teeth chattering. When he reached the top to find himself alone, it was all he could do not to collapse to the ground and cry.

_ No _ , he thought.  _ He has to  _ be  _ here. I can’t be too late! _

But there was no escaping the fact that he was alone in the snow. The chill of it bit into his skin, prickling at his arms and legs and face. Slush melted down his legs, dripping inside his shoes to leave his feet bitterly cold and damp. He was too tired to move. Now that he was up here, it felt as though all his strength were being sucked away. Was it the knowledge that he’d failed?

The world seemed to narrow - focusing in front of him as the edges of his vision went dark. His head spun. Even breathing became an effort, and a few seconds later he pitched forward, too tired to even turn his head to the side as the cold, wet snow smothered him. 

 

* * *

 

He was cold when he came to, cold and stiff. Everything hurt, and his throat was parched. He was on his back, arms locked in place behind him. Why couldn’t he move them? He pulled, trying to make them work, but something held them fast. 

“Oh, you  _ are  _ still alive,” someone said. “What a relief. Although, I don’t  _ really  _ think she would have killed me if you weren’t.”

The voice was vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t put a name to it, and when he opened his eyes to look, all he could see was a blindingly bright blue sky. He screwed them shut again and tried to roll onto his side. He couldn’t help but feel that the voice was a bad sign, and it went beyond the complacent way its owner spoke.

“I’m supposed to make sure you stay alive, you see,” the voice went on. “Oh and you won’t get anywhere doing  _ that _ . No one’s even asked where you are, you know. So they certainly won’t find you if you fall down  _ there _ .”

Reflexively, Ken snapped his eyes open, and felt his heart race as he saw the edge of the rock shelf nearby. Memory came flooding back, hard on the heels of shock and terror. He struggled to shuffle away from the drop-off, wincing with every movement. He was sluggish and lightheaded all at once. How was he here? 

Hands grabbed him, and dragged him backward across the rock. It was all he could do not to cry out in pain. The owner of the voice hauled him upright and the world swam, then settled on the decidedly unpleasant sight of Mummymon’s face not far from his own. 

“Hmm, looking a little peaky, aren’t we?” the digimon said. “They did say you were supposed to eat something, but really, what was I supposed to do when you wouldn’t wake up?”

Ken looked away, down past the hands which gripped his upper arms. His legs swung uselessly below him: even if he’d had the energy to kick the digimon, what good would that do?

_ Why do they want me to eat? _ he thought dully. Mummymon was saying something else, but the words washed over him. It was hard to focus - lifting his head up again seemed an insurmountable task, and with the ground in sight, all he could think about was how the little cracks in the ground looked like distant mountain valleys. If he let his vision go blurry, he could imagine that he was miles in the air…

The world skipped and blurred, and the next thing he was aware of was being propped upright against a rock face. Something pressed against his lower lip, and he flinched and choked, then realised there was water in his mouth - a cup? He couldn’t drink fast enough; it spilled over and ran down his chin.

Then it was gone - long before his thirst could be fully quenched. He wanted to ask for more - he  _ needed  _ to drink more - but he couldn’t seem to manage the words. Even  _ breathing  _ seemed hard. He’d already given up on keeping his eyes open. 

“…don’t see why I should be the one stuck here,” droned the voice nearby. “It really is very dull, you know, and she hardly ever visits. Hey, are you even  _ listening? _ ”

Something poked at his chest, and he managed to open his eyes. Mummymon was watching him, leaning over with a confused frown.

“Oh, right, I suppose I should give you something to eat. Can’t have you dying on us, after all. They were pretty insistent about you being kept alive.”

This was bad. Ken couldn’t quite think clearly enough to know why, but he was sure that whatever Mummymon wanted, it wasn’t good at all. He didn’t want to die, but if they wanted him alive, he didn’t want that either…did he? 

_ I’m just so tired, _ he thought.  _ I don’t want to be here. Why can’t  _ this  _ be the dream? _

Mummymon was talking again, but the voice turned to an echoey murmur, growing increasingly distant. The aches and pains faded. So did everything else.

 

* * *

 

It was night, and he was in the warm circle on the snowy hill. The moon was out, high above in a clear, starlit sky, and he could think past the fog of pain and hunger which had plagued him on the rock face. For a long while he just lay there, trying to come to terms with what had happened. How long had he been here? How many days had he been lying unconscious in the digital world? 

It took a while to go over it all in his head and make sense of matters. When he had, he reckoned that - so far as he could tell - it had been about a week since Archnemon had kidnapped him. A week in this strange place, where he apparently wasn’t even in his body. After all, surely Mummymon would have noticed if he had suddenly appeared or disappeared. And Takeru was here, so presumably, whatever had happened to Takeru was somehow happening to him as well. 

Why, though? He drew his knees up to his chest and looked out over what he could see of the world. Something about it was wrong, although he couldn’t tell what it was at first. 

The cottage was there, at the bottom of the hill. One of the windows was lit up - the kitchen, probably. It and the hall light tended to stay on no matter what the time of day or night. Beyond it, the grass stretched out in every direction - a short distance to the hill he sat upon, and then longer to the south, west, and east…

The lake had gone. That was it. There had been water on the eastern horizon before, and now it was just grass, with the lights of what looked like a city in the distance. He stood up, certain he had to be making some kind of mistake. Surely it was just a reflection of the stars or something?

No. It was a city. The world had  _ changed _ . 

_ What is this place? _ he thought, rubbing his arms. A chill ran down his back that had nothing to do with the temperature. 

Was that what Takeru had meant about the lake being the same? Had he worked out that the land changed? No  _ wonder  _ he’d gotten worried when they’d lost sight of the cottage. 

Ken looked down the hill at the cottage and its surrounding walls. It looked reassuringly familiar and secure. If this world could change - if things didn’t stay the same - surely it was best for him to stay inside that compound as well? 

His self-preservation instinct kicked in and he stumbled forward, gritting his teeth against the cold as he hurried down the steps of the hill as quickly as he could manage without falling. There had been too much danger. Too much change, and stress, and fear. He wanted to feel safe, for a while at least. Surely that wasn’t too much to ask?

Ken’s legs ached fiercely by the time he reached the bottom of the hill. As the snow gave way to grass he let them fold gently beneath him, and send him tumbling forward, rolling down the last of the slope and onto level ground. There was a gentle breeze, and the grass sighed around him. It was peaceful, and quiet, and warm. 

He slept. He knew as much because one minute the sky above was black, peppered with stars, and the next it was merely dark blue, and the pinpricks of light above had faded. His breath fogged in front of him, although the ground was dry. Getting to his feet, he reasoned it had to be somewhere close to dawn again.

The walls of the cottage weren’t far, although the fog was closing in fast. If he had slept much longer, he might have gotten lost outside the walls. The thought was far from a comforting one. 

Ken slipped in through the gate and crept along the pathways of the garden. He wasn’t tired, exactly, but it was too early to sit in his usual spot by the pond, and foggy and miserable to want to sit and stare out into the grass. The lights of whatever city he’d seen the night before had vanished now. There was no way to tell if that was due to the mist, or if the place had disappeared altogether. Either way, Ken needed the reassurance that the spot he had begun to think of as “his” was still intact. 

He didn’t make it that far. Before he’d gone more than a short way around the house, he heard Takeru’s voice, mumbling in his sleep. The faint protests rapidly grew louder, until the air filled with echoes which Ken remembered all too well:

“No, don’t! Stop! You can’t-”

And then Takeru was screaming, the pained cries sounding even worse than Ken remembered. On and on it went, until Poyomon’s voice rose up alongside Takeru’s. Screeching. Panicked. Obviously trying to wake Takeru from the nightmare.

There was no escape for Ken. He was awake already, and the nightmare was reality - he was a  _ monster _ . It was all his fault. How could he? How  _ could  _ he? How could anyone do that? Even without any memory of who he was, Takeru hadn’t stopped screaming from the echoes of the seed. Would he ever be free of that?

Ken gagged, and ran along the path trying not to be sick. The memory of what he had done replayed over and over in his mind. His eyes filled with tears as he fled through the gardens. When he stumbled on his patch of grass he fell to the ground and huddled there. Somewhere inside the house, Takeru’s screams turned to sobs which were no less painful to hear.

Guilt and self-loathing warred for space in his mind. He felt horrible -  _ was  _ horrible. He should have thrown himself off the ledge while he’d had the chance. 

Part of him knew he couldn’t. Knew he had to find Leafmon - the one innocent party in all of this that he still had the chance to  _ help  _ in some way. If he could just get a message out. If he could keep going long enough to find out what had happened to his partner, he wouldn’t eve care what happened to himself afterwards. 

The sounds of Takeru crying faded as the sun rose. Ken got to his feet after a while, and wandered aimlessly through the gardens. Past the barns, and the pond. Through the garden with the trees and swings. Past an area full of vegetables, all in varying stages of growth. Round the whole house once, and then halfway again before a voice rang out in the cool air:

“ _ There _ you are! You weren’t waiting by the pond. I had to go looking, you know.”

Ken turned, but there was nothing on Takeru’s face but his usual cheerful smile. No trace of the misery he had overheard. It was as though it had never happened at all. 

“Poyo  _ poyo _ .” 

Poyomon nodded, backing Takeru up. 

He didn’t know what to do. He was stuck - frozen with indecision. Part of him wanted to run, and part of him wanted to just follow Takeru’s lead and pretend that everything was okay. To escape the nightmares of his own making. Hide from the guilt. He was ashamed at how tempting the idea seemed, given how utterly he did  _ not  _ deserve a reprieve. 

“Come on,” Takeru said, taking a step forward and holding out his hand. “It’s pretty cold and misty today, so we should probably play inside.” 

The expression on Takeru’s face was one of complete faith and trust. Ken hated himself all the more as he forced himself to smile, and nodded as though everything were fine. But he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t leave right there and then. Takeru thought he was a friend, after all. Wouldn’t it be worse to hurt him again now? Tonight. Tonight he would leave, and perhaps Takeru would forget him too.

 

* * *

 

But the days slipped by, and for every night where Ken told himself that he should leave, there was a morning where Takeru greeted him cheerfully and somehow made it impossible. A few days in, Poyomon appeared at his patch of grass once Takeru was asleep, and showed him a half-hidden second entrance to the cottage. After that, he slept indoors in a poky room that Takeru didn’t seem to have found, nestled on a small stack of tatami mats and wreathed in blankets which had raised great clouds of dust when he’d given them a shake outside.  He thanked Poyomon for the kindness in every small small way he could think of, whether it was by giving the little digimon the food Takeru offered him which he seldom had an appetite for; or by helping Takeru carry his partner on the longer walks they took while exploring; or offering looks of sympathy at those times when the absence of Takeru’s memory was even more obvious than usual.

That Poyomon seemed to want him to stay definitely counted for something, in the small part of his mind which tried to keep track of the days, and not get caught up in the make-believe which Takeru surrounded himself with. Certainly he was finding it harder to think about his life before arriving on the hilltop. It was all too easy to lose sight of who he was - he wasn’t sure what about the world made it difficult to think past the present, but it had to be part of the reason he lacked the willpower to do the right thing and leave Takeru in peace. 

That said, he stayed away when the  _ not-friends _ , as he started thinking of them, came to visit. They were just too unsettling. Real and yet not, and all the more chilling for the one who was missing. None of the four who had fought against him ever visited, which made a strange sort of logic: it was the older children who had been rendered younger and sent to entertain Takeru. All except Yamato. Over the next few weeks - he was sure it had to be weeks - he counted five different children, all of whom he could match to their real-world counterparts. But Takeru’s brother wasn’t among them, and he couldn’t work out why. Surely if Gennai was trying to prompt Takeru’s memories to return, it would make sense to start with family?

No doubt Gennai could have answered his question, if he’d ever had the courage and opportunity to face him. As it was, each time Gennai visited - presumably to ask Takeru questions and see if his memory had returned at all - he found himself overcome with fear and shame. Apathy dragged at his heels as he tried to push past the feelings and force himself into a confrontation, and he would instead find himself sinking into darkness, and waking briefly in his real body. Aching, delirious, someone there would present him with water which he drank, and sometimes food. It was a waking nightmare which never lasted long before he found himself back on the hilltop, alone.

Gennai’s visits also seemed to prompt the worst of  _ Takeru’s  _ nightmares, too. Each time the man visited, Ken’s already troubled attempts to sleep were disrupted by screams of remembered agony. 

And yet, for good or ill, those were the nights when he found it hardest to consider leaving. It wasn’t simply that the alternative lay fresh and terrible in his memory, although that was a part of it. But after hearing Takeru in such a state, knowing that the boy would wake up and forget all about it wasn’t enough. He had to see the evidence for himself. See the cheerful expression on Takeru’s face as he was greeted. 

It was wrong - he  _ knew  _ it had to be wrong. Takeru woke from nightmares about him only to greet him as though they were really friends. But it was a comfort, all the same, to see that Takeru wasn’t consumed by them for long. He could ease his conscience a little by telling himself that at least while he was there, Takeru had someone else to talk to who was  _ real _ . That it had nothing to do with the fact he had grown to enjoy Takeru’s company.

 

* * *

 

Takeru had described himself as being eight years old. In all honesty, he didn’t even look  _ that _ . He was short and wide-eyed, and Ken couldn’t remember ever having been that enthusiastic about things like castles, and swings, and the other subjects of Takeru’s endless quest for entertainment. But at the same time, the longer Ken spent around him, the less he became aware of that distinction. After all, there really wasn’t anything else to do. It was like a strange summer break which never ended - each day dawned empty, awaiting their own ideas of how to fill it. 

A pattern emerged - he would wake early, usually just in time to hear the last dregs of Takeru’s nightmares. Poyomon would still be comforting the other boy as he made his way out of the side door and round to the front of the house. On misty days, he would stick close - the bench by the pond, or on the step by the door. On clearer days, he would sit on one of the walls looking out towards the sunrise, and see what the world looked like that morning.

Takeru seemed to take it for granted that the world outside the cottage’s walls didn’t stay the same, and before long it didn’t seem all that strange to Ken, either. Sometimes the grass continued into rolling hills, or down to the lake; other mornings would reveal woodland stretching across the eastern horizon and wrapping around the cottage walls like a vaguely sinister blanket. Once or twice, after taking a sleepy wrong turn on a particularly foggy morning, Ken thought he saw sand dunes, rolling down to merge with the grass not far off.

The mist and fog was another pattern which he worked out. Generally, he could predict Takeru’s mood by how clear the skies were. Clear skies meant Takeru would emerge smiling and cheerful, and full of ideas. On cloudy days he was more sombre, and it took a bit of gentle encouragement to lift his mood. At first, Ken reasoned that Takeru simply didn’t like cold days. But as the days turned to weeks, he started to feel as though it were the other way round. 

It was an imperfect pattern, but on clear days, when they went exploring, Takeru was more likely to say or do something which Poyomon got - in Ken’s opinion -  rather more exited about than especially made sense. At first, Ken thought it was just a coincidence. Then, one morning they woke to find a beach not far from the cottage, with a wide, sandy shore. 

In a moment of inspiration, Ken ran indoors and fetched bowls from the kitchen, along with a couple of serving spoons. Takeru stared at them blankly.

“What’s  _ that  _ for?”

But he caught on quickly when they reached the sand, and before long they were digging for treasure, and using the sand to make castles along the shore - domed and strange-looking thanks to their makeshift buckets. They dug a wide moat around one, and while Takeru was busy ferrying water back from an apparently tideless sea, Ken seized his chance. He started with a rough line of sand-domes, and worked his way back from their main castle so that he obscured the sand in front of where he was sitting.

_ ~What is this place?~ _ he wrote in the sand, beckoning Poyomon over.

The little digimon just shrugged. 

“Poyo? Poyo poyo.”

Ken sighed. Interpreting Poyomon’s speech was almost impossible, most of the time. He brushed the words away and tried from a different angle. 

_ ~Did Gennai make it for Takeru?~ _ He gestured to everything around them, taking the opportunity to make sure Takeru hadn’t noticed their semi-conversation.

Poyomon nodded, and then shrugged. “Poyo?”

_ ~Does Takeru remember  _ _ anything _ _?~ _

Nod, shake. Yes  _ and  _ no?

_ ~Sort of? Sometimes? Partly?~ _ Ken wrote, trying to think of ways to phrase the questions so that Poyomon could answer. But of course, that was the moment Takeru wandered over, and he had to scrub the words from the sand, and quickly start filling his “bucket” to mask the conversation.

“How come you’re all the way over here?” Takeru asked. “We’re never gonna finish if you keep wandering off, you know.”

Ken upended his bowl, and dumped the sand over the remaining characters. He nodded, and got to his feet, trying to ignore the twinge of guilt at his minor deception. Takeru probably wouldn’t even remember this conversation in a few minutes, but somehow, that only made it worse. As though he were taking advantage - again. He’d make up for it. Stay later, perhaps, or-

He stopped, and frowned. Takeru was staring at the little collection of sand domes with an odd expression on his face. He’d gone from happy and cheerful to solemn in two or three seconds flat. 

“Poyo?”

Takeru blinked, but kept staring. It was as though he hadn’t heard his partner speak at all. 

Ken frowned and leant forward, stepping between Takeru and the sand domes. Takeru flinched, and turned round to look out over the water; face a mask of worry and panic. He turned back to the sand domes and backed away.

“I…I want to go home,” Takeru said abruptly. “I don’t like this game. It…it’s too sad.”

Ken just stared at him. What had brought this on? But beside him, Poyomon was hopping up and down frantically. Had he missed something? He stood there in a daze as Takeru clenched his fists. For a moment, he thought Takeru was about to kick their sand sculptures to pieces. Instead, the other boy clutched at his head and backed away. 

“Poyo poyo! _ Poyo! _ ”

The voice seemed to snap Takeru out of whatever had gotten into him. He stood up, and looked around, wide-eyed and apparently surprised. 

“What’s going on? Poyomon, what’s all the fuss about?”

The little digimon sighed. 

“Poyo,” it said softly, shaking its head. 

“You okay, Poyomon?” Takeru asked. He looked up at Ken. “I think maybe Poyomon’s tired. We should go back now, okay?”

Ken looked helplessly at Poyomon, but nodded. What else could he do? They gathered up the few things they’d brought with them, and set off across the meadow towards the cottage. 

Takeru was quiet. He had lost his usual cheer and chattiness, and held Poyomon close to him, cradling his partner as though he were about to disappear. As they walked, the mist closed in around them, until by the time they reached the walls, the sun had been completely obscured despite it being only early afternoon. Ken shivered. There was nothing natural about the sudden change in weather - in all the weeks he had been there, he’d never seen it change halfway through the day before. 

He watched Takeru carefully. It seemed impossible, and yet… could Takeru’s sudden change in mood have had something to do with it? No doubt Poyomon could have told him, if he’d had a chance to ask. And who knew how long it would be until they visited somewhere with sand again? He would have to think of a different way to communicate with Poyomon, and soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand this brings us to the end of my second Renascent update for the Digimon Bang challenge! The third and final big update (the story will continue at a more sensible pace after this) will be on the 16th, so be sure to check back then. Thank you very much for reading!


	10. Waking Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the third and (for now) final part of Renascent, as written and divided up for the Digimon Adventure Bang 2016.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Please be aware that this chapter comes with a content warning, and may make uncomfortable reading for anyone with a history of eating disorders._

More days passed. The mists weren’t so thick that they were forced to stay indoors the whole time, but there were no more excursions outside the grounds either. Ken found himself forgetting Takeru’s outburst most of the time. Certainly Takeru didn’t seem to remember anything happening at all. Poyomon, too, seemed to act as though it were part of the normal run of things. 

He lay on his bed, trying to sleep as memories he couldn’t hold on to during the day rose up and assaulted him. Sleeping was never easy. The nights, with their clear starry skies, brought with them a clarity of mind which ebbed away again come morning. 

_ Clear skies _ , he thought.  _ Could that be… _

They were comparatively peaceful thoughts to fall asleep to. He dreamt - the first time he had done so in as long as he could remember. 

_ He was stood on the balcony of his apartment with Osamu. Suddenly, his brother turned to him, and although no one spoke, Ken knew that it was goodbye. Osamu smiled sadly, and turned away.  _

_ Ken opened his mouth to beg his brother to stay, but no words emerged. He tried to reach out and grab the now shadowy figure, but his arms wouldn’t move. It was as though he were frozen in place. Trapped; immobilised. Unable to do anything but watch as his brother left him forever. And suddenly they weren’t on the balcony any more. They never had been at all. They were at the roadside, and the air was filled with the screeching of tyres… _

_ He stood alone in a desert, as sand whipped around him. Alone. He was alone. And then Archnemon appeared, and loomed over him in spider form, laughing. _

_ Everything hurt: real pain which threw off his jumbled train of thought and rooted him in place. Cramps in his stomach and a burning dryness in his throat. Aches and agony in his arms. Cold numbness in his legs, and the faint but ominous beginnings of pins and needles. He was cold, and yet burning up all at once.  _

_ The pain grew and grew until he could no longer see what was around him - but he thought he heard Archnemon’s voice, and felt the stinging sensation of sand peppering him. Only, it wasn’t sand any more, but static. The air filled with the stench of ozone, and then fumes and chemicals. Familiar and yet strange. Warmth enveloped him, and voices above shouted and argued. He almost choked as someone tried to pour water down his throat.  _

Reflexes kicked in, and he opened his eyes to find that his nightmare was only too real. 

It wasn’t Mummymon stood over him this time, but Archnemon, holding a cup in one hand and his jaw in the other. She had tipped his head back so the water ran down his throat, and was scowling at him.

Ken struggled to break free of her grip, but his body didn’t respond. Pins and needles prickled at his arms and legs, but they were useless - asleep? He coughed and choked reflexively as some of the water went down the wrong way, and Archnemon let him drop with a soft thud. The world didn’t make sense - where was the sky? What was all that noise? His heart hammered loudly in his chest as the panic grew - why couldn’t he move? What was going on? What were they going to  _ do? _

But even as the panic grew, he found it harder to think. The thoughts merged in his head, forming a general, indefinable distress. He was…he was  _ tired _ . It didn’t make sense - any of it - and he just wanted the pain and fear to go away and leave him alone. He wanted  _ everything  _ to go away.

As the room turned grey at the edges, he wondered if someone had heard his wish and granted it. 

 

* * *

 

It was strange to wake up somewhere that wasn’t the cottage. He lay on his side, and for a few minutes all he could do was remain there with his eyes closed, getting used to the painful weight of his own body. Arms and legs which he’d taken for granted suddenly felt so…so  _ there _ . Each breath was an effort - loud and ragged and aching, rasping at his throat. 

When he opened his eyes, he found himself lying on a thin futon in a small room. There was a window somewhere behind him, and a door in front. He was alone.

There was a quiet horror in the knowledge that he had no idea where he was, or who had brought him here, or what was going to happen next. He was in an unknown room with no answers, and he felt too weak even to sit up. 

He tried anyway. Heavy as his arms were, he managed to push himself up off the futon a short way, before the dizziness in his head became a roaring, and he collapsed back down with a groan, breathing heavily.

_ What’s wrong with me? _ he thought.  _ Why can’t I get up? _

The answer danced at the corners of his mind, somewhere near the rest of his ability to think. Past and future had been stripped away, leaving him alone with just the present: he was lost, scared, in pain, and  _ utterly  _ disoriented. 

The room was empty of furniture, but scuff marks on the floor suggested things had been dragged around recently. Steeling himself, he raised his head a little and looked around. Aside from the futon he lay upon, there was only a bucket in the corner and, near his head, a tray containing a bowl, jug, and a small cup. A cup. Water? 

Ken swallowed past what felt like a lump in his throat. Water. He was thirsty, that was one of the problems. You could get dizzy if you didn’t drink enough, right? And he needed to think clearly - something was very badly wrong. He had to drink. Had to wrestle with this no-good body of his and make it  _ work _ . He could do this. He could reach that cup and jug and drink. He wasn’t  _ useless _ , after all, was he? 

_ Get the cup. Drink something. _

It was almost like a voice in his head, telling him what to do, and it was so much easier to go along with it. So much better than having nothing to cling to. He needed a purpose. Needed something to keep him going.

_ Drink _ .

It was a command. An instinct. He pushed everything else to the back of his mind. He  _ needed  _ water. Needed to think - he was thirsty, and the water would help him think, and make sense of this. Survival took over, quieting his panic. Everything would be okay once he had water. 

He pushed his hatefully weak body to its limit, lying on his stomach and dragging himself across the futon toward the tray. The jug loomed in his mind, large and probably heavy, but there was no room for doubt. He wouldn’t  _ let  _ it be too heavy. He needed water. Needed water. Water.

_ Water _ . The jug tipped forward in his hand, wobbling as he reached for it, and water spilt over the edge. With shaking hands outstretched, he pushed the cup into place and rocked the jug forward again, arm protesting for each agonising second. It couldn’t fall. Mustn’t fall. It settled back on the tray with a slosh, but there was water in the cup now, and he could use both arms to drag it over, easing it past the lip of the tray and across the floor. He didn’t even need to lift it; he could just tip it forward and drink. Soothe the rasping of his throat. 

The ache in his stomach eased too as it filled. He had water. Why couldn’t he think yet? This wasn’t the plan. His body was  _ useless _ . 

The irritation fizzed up out of nowhere. He blinked. Wait. That wasn’t right. He was tired, wasn’t he? And…and he’d been somewhere else. And there was no food -  _ that  _ was why his stomach ached and cramped. No water, no food. And he’d been away from it all, because of a reason he couldn’t quite remember any more. But there had been a boy, and a something else, and they were friends.  _ They  _ didn’t think he was useless. 

He remembered laughter. The fizz of irritation gave way to the memory, and rising up in his mind was a face; laughing and smiling. He had to go back. It was important - he couldn’t be  _ here _ . He needed to be somewhere else. 

_ Why? _ He didn’t know. Maybe it didn’t matter. But he had to be somewhere else, and he was starting to think the reason he was so weak was that he was hungry.   The bowl on the tray caught his eye. Bowls were for food, weren’t they? Reaching out once more, he caught the lip of the bowl with his hand and pulled. It was heavy - far more so than he thought it should be, and it stuck on the tray. Liquid spilt over the edge, cold and unpleasant as it landed on his fingers. He pulled again, dragging it towards his head, centimetre by centimetre, until it was close enough that he could slide his hands underneath himself and push up; lift his head to see what it contained.

It looked like soup. Something mostly liquid, anyway, with ramen and a few vegetables. He dropped down again, arms aching. It was just a bowl. No chopsticks or spoon, even if he had been able to hold them - and he wasn’t sure he could. Just the soup then. 

It was getting harder to lift his head. The tiredness was creeping back, riding hard on the heels of that memory. He just wanted to sleep, and go back…somewhere. But the fizz of anger in the back of his mind wouldn’t let him stop and sleep. It wanted the soup.  _ He  _ wanted the soup. He had to eat, or drink, somehow. 

_ Drink the soup.  _

It was an instinct every bit as strong as his compulsion to get the water. The knowledge arrived in his mind without words, but it was an order, all the same. He took a deep breath and braced himself, putting the last of his strength into lifting his head and tipping the bowl forward. The soup was cold and unpleasant, and the soggy ramen made him gag, but he swallowed a few mouthfuls of the liquid before laying back down. His stomach felt full and distended. 

He had no instincts now. No voiceless sense of what he needed to do. Directionless and exhausted, he let the urge to sleep wash over him once more. 

 

* * *

 

There was no laughter. There was no boy. 

He was alone, stood amid endless sands, although he thought he heard the distant sound of waves. 

Everything was terrible.

 

* * *

 

Ken woke faster than his previous awakening, to a body which ached and cramped, in a dark room with only the faint glow of moonlight and starlight to see by. He was just as alone, and the pangs in his stomach had returned. Lifting his head, he looked around for the bowl which promised to ease them. It was by his head still, and he managed to drink a few mouthfuls of cold soup before a sensation of fullness and nausea made him push the bowl away. It rocked, and he heard liquid splashing onto the floor as it settled to stillness, but he was too tired to care. 

His head wasn’t much clearer, but he was sure this was all wrong. Danger. There was danger somewhere, and something he had to do. He’d…he’d made a terrible mistake, hadn’t he? Somewhere in the fog of his past, there was a thing he couldn’t fix. Or could he? Something was urging him on. Something…someone he had to help?

Time skipped, and the quality of light in the room changed. He had the feeling he had dozed. Certainly he was tired enough. The sleep helped him think. Archnemon. She must have found him, wherever he was. Something about the room told him he was in the real world again. Was that it? Could he only get to the place where Takeru was when he was in the Digital world?

His stomach was empty again, and his growing awareness told him he should eat. Eat and drink. He was too weak. A survival instinct stronger than he could ever have believed he possessed took over, and he let it guide him. Drink soup, lie down, rest. Drink soup, lie down, rest. There was no room for thought - it was mechanical, instinctive. Like something else running his body while he tried to make sense of the chaos in his head. The pattern repeated over and over for what seemed like forever but couldn’t have been, because it ended with the rising of the sun. 

Ken was only half awake when the door opened.

“Ah, you see? There’s no harm done!”

That voice. Mummymon. His senses sharpened, pulling him out of the daze and rooting him in his body. The heightened awareness might have been a defensive reflex, but it wasn’t all good. The cramps in his stomach seemed worse than ever.

“You  _ blockhead! _ ” said Archnemon’s voice. “We said  _ alive _ , not almost dead! You can’t do anything right!”

Almost dead? Were they talking about  _ him? _ He probably ought to be worried by that, but it was hard to disagree. He was too tired, and the pain in his stomach was only getting worse. It had been better when he was numb. Why couldn’t he go back to that?

_ No _ . 

There, in the back of his thoughts. The fizz of irritation and determination.

_ How dare they.  _

He wasn’t dead. Wouldn’t die. He’d live just to  _ spite  _ them - how dare they write him off like that? Ken wasn’t sure where the energy came from, or the will to live and thrive and fight, but it was there now. A purpose.  _ Live _ . He took as deep a breath as he could manage, and scowled at them as they approached - his body might be no good, but there was no way he was going to show them how weak he was. In defiance he was stronger than they would  _ ever  _ be. 

Mummymon scarcely looked at him as he approached and replaced the tray. Ken held his breath, but nothing was said. After the digimon left, Archnemon stared at him for a few more seconds, smirking, before closing the door and leaving him in the room alone.

 

* * *

 

The day passed with agonising slowness. He ate almost constantly; small sips from the bowl until his shrunken stomach filled, and then a half-conscious doze while his body tried to regain some strength, only to repeat the cycle again as soon as he felt able. 

The need to  _ survive  _ came in two kinds of waves - a hot, burning anger, or a cooler, colder certainty that he  _ couldn’t  _ stop now. It was easier when the anger took hold - the fire of it seemed to burn with a spiking pain, but it chased away his growing fears and doubts. The future and the past loomed in his mind with the cold certainty; promising sadness, promising remorse. Promising regret and  _ agony _ , until the heat rose up once more and washed those thoughts away, reassuring him that he didn’t need to think about that. Didn’t need to worry about anything but the now, anything but getting stronger. Being stronger. Being the strong _ est _ , because if he did that then nothing else would matter. 

The slowness chafed - he  _ would  _ get stronger, so why couldn’t it happen now? It was maddening to be trapped in a body which hurt and complained and betrayed itself, when by rights he should…should…

Visions of dark rings and creatures with glowing red eyes flooded his mind. Pain, and suffering, and the certainty that it was  _ all his fault _ . He gasped, and retched, struggling to keep down the food he so desperately needed. The Kaiser. He was the Kaiser and he had hurt so many people. He was a  _ monster _ . He didn’t deserve to live at all. 

Cold horror settled in his bones and he closed his eyes tightly. There was enough water for tears now, and he couldn’t have stopped them anyway. He cried until his head hurt and his nose ran and the world skipped and blurred with the fuzziness of sleep. 

Waking was strange though, because although he could remember more of the past now, he couldn’t quite understand what had bothered him about it. Of course he was the Kaiser - wasn’t that the whole point? He had to regain his strength and revenge himself upon his captors. The anger rose up inside him, hot and painful down his spine. Head pounding, he forced himself to drink - headaches could be caused by dehydration, after all, and no doubt his other physical discomforts resulted from malnutrition. Let his enemies think him weak. Let them leave him unattended and bring him the means by which he would get stronger. They were wrong if they thought they could outwit him. 

It had been a full day. Time to move. He would regain only so much strength from food alone; movement and exercise must do the rest. 

He started with his hands: clenching his fists and then uncurling them, feeling the protests in his arms. Less so than if he hadn’t been using them already. Toes next, and his calves ached far more deeply from disuse. Slowly, methodically, he worked his way through the rest of himself, tensing muscles to remind them how to work. He’d been outside his body for weeks, after all. The muscle memory was faded and rusty. 

Yes. Outside his body. Where? It didn’t make sense - there were gaps in his mind. Blank spaces which niggled at him. And as much as the anger and certainty made him sure he didn’t need to worry about them, there was another side of him - curious and quiet - which drew his thoughts there time and again. A needless distraction, but one he couldn’t seem to escape. 

It followed him into his patchy sleep, taking the form of vague dreams. He stood alone, always. By himself, either atop a dune in a desert filled with shifting sands, or ankle deep in the grey waters of an ocean which stretched out before him, vast and cold. He would wake with the uneasy sensation that they were more than  _ just  _ dreams, and struggled to push them from his mind. 

Strength returned slowly and painfully. On his second day he managed to sit upright, leaning back against the wall while the world danced and swam before his eyes. But the sensation passed, and in its place he was left with a thrill of satisfaction. He was stronger. He was fighting. He would  _ win _ .

_ Win what? _

He blinked, wondering where  _ that  _ thought could have come from. It didn’t matter what - he would win everything. Demonstrate his tenacity, prove that he was…was… 

The doubt was momentary, but he couldn’t deny that it had happened. For that split-second, he had been sure that how he felt was all wrong. He pushed the thought from his mind, and focused instead on stretching out his arms and legs. There was no time for doubt. He had to focus every waking thought on getting stronger. Stronger, smarter,  _ superior _ . 

 

* * *

 

Three days. Four. They rolled past with agonising slowness and tedium, which only grew as his strength and impatience returned. There was no concealing his recovery past the point at which his bodily functions returned, but save from adding a small bowl of rice to the assortment on the tray he received twice daily, his captors seemed scarcely to notice. He refused to acknowledge their presence when they entered the room, and they gave no indication as to why they kept him against his will. It was a stalemate.

Despite the improvements which he tracked in his health, there was no denying that his body was in poor shape. His thoughts were still foggy and slow - too slow - and he spent long stretches of time either asleep or only half aware of his surroundings, while his mind plagued him with fever dreams of dark rings and spirals, and legions of digimon with glowing red eyes. They crowded around him, reassuring and intimidating him by turns.

Waking was little better. With nothing to occupy his mind, his thoughts cycled round and round; a tangle of emotions and memories which he couldn’t seem to resolve into good or bad. The uncertainty irked him, sending spiking, painful waves of irritation through his head. How was he supposed to plan like this? 

Five. Six. 

The nights marked the passing of each day, as did the brief, silent visits from his captors. He’d marked it by the improvement in his health, too, but after his initial progress from near-paralysis, that had slowed dramatically. Sitting still made his head spin at first. Standing was something he couldn’t manage at all - his legs buckled beneath him when he tried. 

Worst of all, his mind had begun to play tricks on him, diverting his thoughts with fragmented fears and anxieties - infirmities which he couldn’t seem to banish. He tried in vain to focus on eating and exercise; to drill his mind in plans and strategies, working through potential escapes. But at every turn he kept returning to pointless fears, or troubling visions of a boy who had grey eyes which glinted red and black one moment, and blue the next.

_ Focus _ , he told himself.  _ Never mind…him. _

The name was there, buried in a jumble of slowly clarifying memories, all of which had been hopelessly scrambled at some point in the past. He wondered if this was how he had always felt. Did everyone have to force their thoughts into order through a fug of disorientation? Constantly straining to keep everything under control instead of succumbing to chaos? Now and then would rise the temptation to give in. To surrender momentarily and rest. Allow his thoughts to drift, aimlessly, and escape the reality of his situation. He’d earnt a rest, surely?

_ No. Haven’t. Don’t deserve rest. Don’t deserve anything. _

He scowled, biting back the temptation to scold himself aloud. Where had such a ridiculous notion come from? Of course he deserved a rest. Deserved…deserved  _ something _ . 

The moment he allowed himself to relax, doubt flooded in - an unstoppable wave of insecurity and worry. Hard on its heels were memories; shocking visions of the past which took on a very different light in his new frame of mind. What was he doing? What was he  _ thinking _ ? A rest? He deserved a  _ rest? _ He didn’t deserve anything! 

The past settled back over him like a mantle, heavy and smothering, and all the worse for his guilt over having escaped it for a time. He was Ken, but… but he was the Kaiser too. The reality that he would never be free of that identity - or the things he had done in that name - struck him like a physical blow.

Dark rings. Red eyes. Black towers. A smiling face which held no cheer at all. His mistakes. No. Not  _ mistakes _ . It hadn’t been an accident, after all. It was intentional, all of it. Deliberate harm which he had inflicted on countless digimon; on the digital world; on the  _ real  _ Chosen; and most of all on Takeru. Not only that, but he hadn’t even helped fix things. He’d shied away from the others, retreated into himself and become a liability. He’d abandoned his partner to wait in an egg for over a month. Time when they could have been growing stronger. Time when he could have been  _ doing  _ something. And instead, Leafmon had barely had a chance to come back before Archnemon had made her move. After everything, he’d let his partner down  _ again _ . 

There was no controlling his thoughts any more. He didn’t have the strength. All his regained stamina had washed away with the realisation that he’d failed everyone. That he’d been weak enough to allow the seed to come  _ back _ . That the only things he had ever done were to harm and destroy. He was a monster past saving. 

He stared at the half-empty bowl by his side. He was weak yet, still recovering from weeks without food. So far, there had been no sign of the sinister, mysterious man who Archnemon and Mummymon apparently answered to - part of him wondered if they had killed him. Certainly they were strong enough, assuming the man actually  _ was  _ human. 

Were they waiting for  _ him  _ to get stronger? No. Not him. The seed. That was what they wanted, and he’d as good as given it to them. He hadn’t stayed away from the digital world for long enough, and it had come back. He’d let it grow; all those weeks when he had been with Takeru and Poyomon had been the time it needed. He’d lived, and dragged things out, refusing to let Gennai know what had happened when he’d had the chance, and all the while it had been there in his real body, unchecked. And then he’d sat in this room, eating and drinking - feeding it, nurturing it. 

_ Monster _ .

He looked down at the bowl beside him. There were a few dregs of ramen left, and he could already feel the ever present cramps in his stomach returning, demanding that his body be fed. But if he ate, and grew stronger, that meant the seed would too. Gritting his teeth, he upended the bowl on the floor. Next went the jug. 

No more food. No more water. No more feeding the monster inside him. 

 

* * *

 

There was a strange, detached comfort in his decision. He was powerless about everything except this. It was the one choice he had left to make, and he’d made it. It didn’t ease the guilt that he had let everyone down, or his fears about what would happen to the digital world when…when he was gone, but he could at least take the seed with him. It was  _ something _ . 

_ It’s not enough _ , he thought dully, lying back down. The horror and shame had settled into his very bones, and he couldn’t seem to manage emotions any more. Everything was muted, numb. He stared vacantly at the door, idly letting it slide in and out of focus as the shred of comfort wore away and left him with nothing.

Time passed. It dragged, endlessly. A torment - endless musings, endless space to replay everything he had done wrong. By the time the door opened he was  _ glad  _ to see Archnemon. Perhaps if he provoked her she would kill him, even if it was only by mistake.

Instead, when she saw him sitting upright, she smiled thinly and left. A few minutes later, it was the third of his captors who opened it once more and greeted him.

“Well well, young Ichijouji,” he said, smiling thinly. “It would seem that our tireless ministrations have paid off. I’m very glad to see that you are feeling better after your little…ordeal. Such a shame that you felt the need to make things more difficult, but… well. The past is past.”

Ken narrowed his eyes, feeling hot, dark anger welling up in the back of his mind. His neck burned. 

_ No! _

It was hard - impossibly hard - but somehow he managed to breathe. Slowly, calmly. Cool air. Cool thoughts. Not anger. Not that. Fear - even fear was better. Fear, and cold, unyielding dread. Better to be scared to death than give in. 

And it was easy. The longer the man loomed over him - his name was lost somewhere in a blur of memories - the more Ken realised that whatever faint hopes he’d held were pointless. It was too late. He’d done just as they wanted.  _ Again _ . He shuffled backwards on the futon, for whatever good it would do. It was a symbol at least. He might not be able to do anything to help anyone, but he wouldn’t hand over the seed willingly.

The man stepped forward, holding a familiar device.

“Now, I’m sure you remember how this goes. It doesn’t need to hurt.”

Another step. Ken weighed up his options, looking around for some sort of escape. He couldn’t let it happen, could he? Last time he’d been restrained by Archnemon, but this time he was free. There was no sign of either digimon for the moment. He backed up against the wall even more, sliding his legs under him. They weren’t strong enough to walk on, but with the right angle…

Ken launched himself forward, using his arms and legs to thrust away from the wall and slide across the wooden floor. He skidded on his stomach, lifting his arms and feet so that only the fabric of his clothes made contact. For a few short seconds his mind filled with visions of a long hallway with a pile of cushions at its end. With the sound of boyish laughter. With a flash of remembered happiness. 

The room was small and the door wasn’t far, and the tall, stooping man clearly hadn’t been expecting him to resist at all, because Ken was able to slide right past him and grab the doorframe without causing anything more than a yell of surprise. He scrambled for the exit, desperation lending strength to his weakened limbs, but barely made it into the hallway before a hand closed around his ankle and he was pulled backwards.

“Let  _ go! _ ” he cried, twisting so he lay on his back. 

He kicked the man’s hand with his free leg, but at that moment Archnemon appeared in digimon form, and scuttled over. His ankle was released only for his arms to be seized instead. She hauled him into the air, shifting her grip so that she pinned his arms to his sides. His legs pinwheeled beneath him, too short to be able to kick her. Not that it would have made any difference either way. Already he was dizzy with exertion - the burst of adrenaline had been short-lived. 

“Little  _ brat _ ,” the man snapped, shaking out the hand Ken had kicked. He looked up, past Ken’s face to Archnemon, and added: “Hold him still. If he’s strong enough to fight back, the seed must be strong enough to harvest.”

Archnemon nodded, and lowered Ken until his feet brushed the floor. The man walked over and tipped his head forward. Moments later he felt something cold press against his neck, and then a ragged, burning pain in his neck. Numbness washed over him in its wake, starting in his head. He felt as though all the strength he had fought to regain was being sucked away.

The world turned blurry at the edges, and began to roar in his ears. His eyelids drooped; suddenly heavy. Even breathing was hard again, and he could no longer feel anything but the vice-like drip of Archnemon’s hands, and a throbbing sensation down the back of his neck. He drifted, vaguely aware that he was probably about to pass out. 

 

* * *

 

“…the children. We can implant the seed into them all at once that way. And… oh, I don’t know. Take him back to the digital world. We won’t need him any more, but it never pays to be careless. Don’t get rid of him until we know the seeds have actually worked on this batch of hosts, understood?”

Ken blinked, slowly and sluggishly. The words were all there in his head, but they didn’t make sense. Who was talking? And what was going on? All he could think of was that everything was wrong, and terrible, but why? 

The answer came as his awareness returned, and he found himself lying on the floor in the middle of a vaguely familiar room. Archnemon and Mummymon stood nearby, talking with the man who was somehow their master. He was still trying to make sense of everything when Mummymon was directed to pick him up.

“Why do  _ I _ have to carry him?” the digimon said.

“Because it’s your fault this has taken so long in the first place!” Archnemon snapped. “If you had simply fed him properly, we could have harvested the seed almost a week ago!”

“Now now,” the man replied, his voice every bit as smooth and cold as it had ever been. “We have what we need, so there’s no need to waste time arguing. Get him out of here. We’ve got quite a few potential hosts to visit yet today.”

The words raised a panic in Ken’s mind, but he was still too groggy to make sense of why. He felt dizzy and sick, and closed his eyes to ride out a wave of nausea as someone - he vaguely assumed Mummymon - picked him up. 

A  _ pulling  _ sensation, and a brief stench of ozone. The air cleared, smelling fresher than before, and a gentle breeze ruffled his hair. Mummymon dumped him onto hard, unforgiving rock. 

“I don’t have to stay here with him again, do I Archnemon?” Mummymon said, as petulantly as a child. “Surely you need me to defend you against the Chosen Children.”

“Idiot! Of course you’re not staying here! You’re the one who’s driving the van. Now shut up while I make a guard.”

Guard? What was she talking about? He forced his eyes open, and realised with a sort of sinking sense of inevitability that they were on the same rock face he had been taken to previously. Archnemon was stood at its edge, looking out over the forest below. As he watched, she plucked a single hair from her head. Instead of floating free, it went rigid, and shot through the air. 

He blinked, wondering if this was all part of some sort of shock-induced dream. Maybe he was imagining this whole thing? 

A flash of movement. A red digimon with a sword slung on its back leapt up from somewhere and landed beside her. It stood without moving or speaking, watching him.

“Right, let’s go,” Archnemon said. She turned to Ken. “I’d say see you soon, but there’s every chance you won’t be awake when we come back to kill you. Now that we have a working copy of the seed, you’re quite redundant, you see.”

Ken stared at her, feeling terror well up amid the haze of confusion and disorientation. A few seconds later, she and Mummymon disappeared, leaving him alone with the mysterious digimon set to guard him. 

He scrambled as far away from his guard as he could manage, shuffling up near the useless gateway to the real world. It was over, then. They had won, and the others had lost, and there was nothing he could do at all. What would happen to the digital world now? What could they possibly be planning that they wanted a whole group of children to be given dark seeds? 

_ They’ll end up like Takeru, _ he thought, feeling the tears well up inside him.  _ And I let it happen. It’s all my fault. _


	11. Return

The light was changing, fading. Night approached, and his guard hadn’t even moved, let alone spoken. It was creepy. 

Ken huddled on the ground, trying to ignore the cramps in his aching stomach. There was nothing he could do. Even if the guard didn’t stop him from escaping, he knew all too well that he wasn’t strong enough to survive climbing down the cliff in order to escape. As for falling on purpose…no. He’d faced that drop and failed to jump once before already. He couldn’t manage it again. 

_ It’s over _ , he thought, wrapping his arms around himself and letting his head rest on his knees.  _ Everything I ever did just made things worse, and now this. I couldn’t even keep the seed away from Archnemon.  _

A breeze picked up, ruffling his hair. He lifted his head and looked out over the starlit forest. What would happen now? The man - a name danced in the corners of his mind - had the seed. He would give it to more children. What then? Hikari, Daisuke, and Koushiro had seemed fairly convinced that if Archnemon wasn’t stopped the whole digital world would be in danger. 

_ At least Leafmon’s not here _ , he thought woodenly, hating himself even as the idea appeared in his head but too tired to chase it from his mind.  _ And the others can leave whenever they like. It’s just me who’s stuck here.  _

_ No. Not only me. Takeru. If they move his body… Gennai said they’d only have one chance. Would he be stuck like that forever? _

It wasn’t fair. Takeru didn’t deserve to be trapped; lost and alone in a strange, unreal place with no idea who he was. What would happen if Archnemon found his body?

He didn’t even notice he was crying at first. When he did, there was no point in trying to stop. Who would see him? Who would care? He’d wasted every opportunity he’d been given to do the right thing, and this was where it led. He wept, from shame and fear and regret, and wished, with his final conscious thought, that there was something he could do to make things right. 

 

* * *

 

The hilltop was just as quiet and peaceful as he remembered it. There was an inevitability about the place now, so as he woke more fully he didn’t stop and look around, just walked down the steps and around the wall to the gateway of the cottage. The sky overheard was clear, and scattered with stars, and a gentle breeze filled the air with the soft sighing of the grassy meadows.

Fear and dread loomed in his mind but didn’t overwhelm him any more, and lurking in his thoughts was the guilty, shameful hope that when Takeru woke up he would start to feel  _ better _ . That they’d play some game, or wander around the gardens until he forgot all his woes. Wasn’t that how things worked in this place? He had no way of leaving, after all, so at least he could keep Takeru company until…

He wasn’t sure what would happen. Didn’t want to think about it, although it was hard to push the fear out of his head with the sky so clear and open, and with nothing to distract him. He didn’t bother going inside to sleep. There was no point - as he sat down on the wall which overlooked the east of the house, he could see the faint line of light which hinted at an imminent morning. If he tried to sneak in now, he risked waking Takeru early, and that was hardly fair.

The sunrise was beautiful. He wasn’t sure if it was because he had been trapped indoors for so long, or if the sky really was slightly clearer than he’d ever seen it, but as the world grew brighter he decided he didn’t care. His aches and weakness had been left behind in his real body, and warm sunlight fell upon him, chasing the darkest of his fears away. The grasses stretched on and on, all the way to the horizon, although he thought he could see some mountains in the distance, blue and hazy. It was set to be a lovely day.

It  _ was  _ a lovely day. He sat on the wall for a long time, until his peaceful contemplation ebbed and was replaced by a sense of unease. Wasn’t it getting a little late in the day? By now, Takeru ought to have been outside, greeting him with a cheerful “Hello!” and a suggestion of something to do. 

The garden was silent. There were no birds in this world, to chirp and sing. There were no cars, or planes overhead. There was just the wind which rustled the grasses and, now and then, picked up enough to rattle the bamboo wind chimes which hung from one corner of the roof. At first it was wonderful. A tranquil moment to clear out the fear and stress of his captivity. But as the sun rose ever higher, and what he supposed to be dream-hunger made itself known, there was still no sign of Takeru. 

Ken slid down from his seat, and walked over to the house. He  _ had  _ been away for a while. What if Takeru was playing indoors? Or sick? There was no one but Poyomon to look out for him, so if he’d finally started to feel the effects of a diet consisting entirely of sweets, or if he’d fallen and injured himself, he’d have to stay indoors and rest, surely?

The door was closed. He’d never opened it from the outside - Takeru was forever leaving it open in his wake. It was shut during the night, but even then, Ken ordinarily used the side door which Poyomon had found for him. His hand hovered over the latch for a few seconds before he dropped his arm a little, and knocked instead. There was no reply. He waited a few minutes and tried again, trying to push the first glimmers of anxiety to the back of his mind. What was going on?

Takeru didn’t answer the door, and there were no sounds of movement from inside. Ken shifted uneasily. What was going on? 

The sunlight shone down, warm on his back. It was getting late in the morning. Unable to wait any more, Ken set off around the house to the side door. He wasn’t  _ intruding _ , he was just checking on Takeru. It was understandable, and he could surely find some way to explain once he’d found the other boy. Maybe Takeru wouldn’t even mind. 

The house was silent. It was oppressive, and the stacks of furniture heaped everywhere had never looked more alien and uninviting. He passed the door to his room and was surprised to see that it was open. Not only that, but someone had been in there, leaving all the cupboards open and the tatami mats in disarray. He swallowed heavily, and backed out, looking around. What had happened?

Takeru’s room was on the other side of the house from his, past the kitchen and the large rooms where they had built their forts. He found himself on tiptoe, holding his shoes in one hand and trying not to disturb the silence. Even his breath seemed loud. There was no wind inside, no sounds of movement.

The light was on in the kitchen, and bars of chocolate had been left lying across the floor. Takeru’s bedroom door was wide open, and somehow, before he even approached, Ken knew what he would find.

Empty.

Takeru was gone.

 

* * *

 

He stood in the bedroom doorway for several minutes at least, too shocked and scared to know what to do next. Where had Takeru gone? What had happened? Finally, the oppressive silence grew too much to bear, and he fled to the front door, wrenching it open and fleeing into the outside air before even stopping to put his shoes back on. 

He came to a halt by the gravel of the path and slipped them on, then ran out of the gardens, through the gateway, and into the meadow. He didn’t get far. The grass was tall; up to his thighs, and thickened enough that running was almost impossible. He slowed down and sank to his knees, ignoring the prickle of the grass on his arms and face.

_ Where did he go? What if something happened to him?  _

What  _ could  _ have happened? He forced himself to stop panicking. To calm down. Perhaps Takeru had slipped out without his noticing somehow. It was a clear enough day; very probably he was in the gardens at that very moment. 

Ken sighed. He was panicking. All the stress and fear was still fresh in his mind, and it was making him jump to conclusions too quickly. He got to his feet and turned back to the cottage. It  _ had  _ been…well, probably about a week. Takeru’s memory wasn’t good. It was no  _ wonder  _ that he hadn’t come to find him. He’d probably forgotten about him altogether. 

It wasn’t a comforting thought. He knew he deserved it - deserved  _ worse  _ \- but he didn’t want to be forgotten. Much as he’d repeatedly told himself that it was wrong to pose as one of Takeru’s friends, he’d done so all the same. It had been nice, to play and pretend, and let the past fade from his memory just for a little while. To believe that it was his chance to start over. Rub out everything which had gone before and be a person he  _ wanted  _ to be instead. 

Still. That definitely wasn’t what Gennai would have had in mind when he created the place. He wasn’t meant to be there, and there was already a chance he’d hurt Takeru even more. But then again, Poyomon had never seemed to mind his presence. The little digimon had even helped by not giving him away to Gennai, and Poyomon looked out for Takeru as much as any digimon could while being small and helpless. 

For however long he had left, did he want to be alone, or a friend? 

He stared at the house for a while longer, then set off back the way he had come, tramping through the long grass in slow, wide steps. If Takeru were there, no doubt they’d be giants, walking through a miniature forest. Or perhaps the grass would be an ocean, and they would be swimming? He’d have to find out when he got back. See what Takeru was up to, and then suggest they explore for a while. One of the good things about this place was that he still had the strength to run around. 

Takeru wasn’t in the place with the walls and trees and swings. He wasn’t in the shady, muddy garden which never seemed to dry out, or in the vegetable patch, or any of the barns. He wasn’t playing by the water pump, or near the pond. When Ken had done a full lap of the gardens with no sign of him, he risked a peek indoors, but there were no shoes in the genkan. 

_ Perhaps he went exploring? _ he thought, although he knew it was unlikely. 

What if Takeru was gone because he’d returned to the digital world? 

That would be a good thing, wouldn’t it? It was what everyone wanted - what they  _ needed _ , because Takeru was part of Gennai’s other plan, the one they’d made in case he failed. If Takeru went back, perhaps they’d be able to stop Archnemon after all. 

_ But what happens to this place then? How is it still here if Takeru’s gone?  _

Surely it  _ wouldn’t  _ still be there if Takeru had woken up. And how would he have, anyway? The last time he’d seen Takeru he was no closer to remembering everything than he had been when he’d first arrived. What could have changed? 

Ken sat down by the pond, trying to put off thinking about the obvious answer to that question. What had changed in the last week?  _ He  _ hadn’t been there. Hadn’t been hanging around to hold up Takeru’s recovery with his own selfishness. Hadn’t been distracting the other boy with stupid games and plans to explore this or that. To confuse Takeru with his presence as someone who should rightly be forgotten, or wiped from Takeru’s memory altogether. Gennai had only sent the older children after all, and there had to be a reason for that. 

He’d come close to ruining everything. Failing to protect Leafmon, failing to stop Archnemon, and now he’d almost stopped Takeru from recovering from the harm he’d even caused in the first place. But it was over now. While part of him still held out a hope that Takeru would return in the evening - that he was just out for the day - the rest of him knew there could be only one reason for Takeru leaving the cottage. At least the digital world could be saved. 

There was nothing to do. Nowhere to go. He couldn’t return to his real body even if he wanted to - each time it had happened before it had been either momentarily or because he’d been physically pulled out of the digital world. Besides, even if he  _ could _ , did he want to? The only thing waiting for him in his real body was pain. At least here - for however long it remained - he could move freely.

The day passed. With agonising slowness, the sun rose to its zenith and then tracked a slow, inevitable path towards the western horizon. Ken stayed by the pond, watching the fish swim and wondering what they  _ really  _ were. Gennai had made the whole place, after all. If he wasn’t real here - and the evidence strongly suggested he wasn’t, as in his real body he was too weak to even stand - what did that make everything else? 

Not-fish, he decided in the end. The same as the not-friends Takeru had. Copies, made to fill the world and make it more like the one Takeru was meant to remember. Was that why it changed so much? So Takeru could visit different places in the hope that one of them would trigger a recall of some sort? It made about as much sense as anything else, he supposed.  

But the copies were good. They were just like real fish, swimming around, sending up occasional bubbles, or skimming not-pond weed off the surface with wide, O-shaped mouths. It was peaceful to watch them, just like he had on so many mornings. 

It was lonely, though. There was no Takeru to run up behind him, betrayed in his attempt to surprise Ken by the sound of his footsteps. There was no Poyomon to sit and poyo with what really had seemed like sympathy at times, even if it was probably only his imagination. There was no laughter, no infectious smile or incentive to get up and  _ do  _ something. There was nothing to distract him from sitting and stewing on the past. 

He cried, on and off, as the sun continued to wind its way across the sky. Cried from sorrow, and regret, and loneliness, and fear. Cried from remembered hunger and pain, and from the anticipation of the probably short future his life held. Cried because he’d been crying inside for so long, and now there was no one to hold back for. No one to pretend for. No one to hide from. There was no one but himself to face, and he couldn’t even do that - which was possibly the worst thing of all. 

The sky grew dark, and still there was no sign of Takeru. When the sun crested the horizon Ken gave up on the last shred of hope he’d held that somehow, things would all turn out okay. He was alone.

The house loomed behind him, a pillar of spilled light from the open front door illuminating the path. A beacon to an empty home belonging to someone else. 

For a while - a  _ long  _ while - Ken thought about sleeping outside, on the grassy bank where he had passed his first few nights at the cottage. But there wasn’t much sense in that, really. He’d only be doing it...why? As a penance? Perhaps it was a penance he deserved, but if that were true, there was equal penance in sleeping alone in the cottage, where there was only silence and stillness, and no more Takeru or Poyomon to fill the air with laughter and fun. 

He got to his feet and made his way back to the front door, closing out the night with a quiet  _ click  _ that seemed almost deafening. His body seemed to work without the interaction of his mind, slipping off his shoes and walking softly along the hall. He halted at Takeru’s room and looked inside. It was dark, and quiet, and wrong. 

Pursing his lips, he pulled the door almost closed, letting just a thin shaft of light filter into the empty room. Much as he didn’t want to see it, he couldn’t bring himself to close the door. Takeru had never closed it. He wasn’t sure if that was from habit or a fear of the dark, but it was always open. Always allowed some light into the room. To shut that out now just felt wrong. 

The house was unsettling at night. With the lights on, the windows became black voids, as though the world outside had ceased to exist already. It was all the more worrying given the possibility that it actually might. How had Takeru borne it? Night after night with no one to talk to - except he’d  _ had  _ someone to talk to. Takeru had always had Poyomon with him. He’d always had his partner there by his side, through thick and thin. 

Ken tried not to follow that train of thought as he made his way into the kitchen, and stepped around the abandoned sweets to look for some crackers. He knew his mind would wind its way there eventually, but the longer he could put it off the better. He didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to face it, and he was weak enough that he gave in to that desire and  _ didn’t _ . It was a heartache for another day. He probably had quite a few of them left, after all. 

He didn’t stay in the kitchen long. It had always been a strange place - the cupboards always seemed to be full no matter how much food they took out, and the bin seemed to empty itself, although nothing else was ever disturbed. He supposed it was some kind of mechanic which Gennai had come up with, but it was more than unsettling.

Then again, nothing about the cottage felt right any more. The hallway was too bright, and the room where he slept was too dark, and too strange, with all the furniture rummaged through. He wondered how it had happened. Takeru might have been playing a game of some sort he supposed, but that had never led the boy to the room before. Probably he would never know. 

Ken straightened out the tatami mats and sat down, looking around him. He hadn’t studied the room in as much detail before - normally by the time he made his way indoors he was weary to the bone, and didn’t stop to do more than check that his makeshift bed was stable, or to plump up the cushion he rested his head on. 

Now, he realised there was actually a light switch by the door, and a bulb hanging from the centre of the ceiling. Rather than sit in the dark, he could turn it on and banish the strange, unfamiliar shadows which whipped his imagination into a frenzy. He just had to get up, and walk across the floor to press it. 

He couldn’t. The house was too quiet, and the shadows were too deep, and the basest, most irrational fears were swelling in his mind; if there  _ was  _ anything else in the room, did he really want to see it? Wasn’t it better not to know? To keep the illusionary monsters just that. Because even though it was absolutely, utterly silent and still, and he was probably the only real, honestly alive person in the whole world, if he got up and turned the light on and there really was something…

Alone. He was alone. He’d never been so alone in his whole life. Had anyone? Was this how hermits living in isolation felt? Or castaways lost at sea? There was no one else. No one to call upon. No reprieve. He’d spent his whole life living in the middle of a city and now there was no one else anywhere, and this, really, was how the rest of his life looked too. Takeru wasn’t coming back. He’d missed each and every chance he’d been given to tell someone he was there. He’d run away rather than face the fact that he’d been wrong again, and now all those chances had been used up. Now there was no cry for help.

Now he was trapped alone in a halfway imaginary cottage in the middle of nowhere, while somewhere in the digital world his real body lay empty and abandoned, and no one would find it. 

The fear welled up and overwhelmed him, in a night which stretched on and on, each hour or minute or year lasting a lifetime. If it hadn’t been for the nightmares he would have found it impossible to believe he slept at all, but they came, torments which bled over from his waking regrets to hound him. It was a fate he knew he deserved, and yet he shied away, begging someone -  _ anyone  _ \- to find him and take him home. 

But there was no one else to hear his cries.

 

* * *

 

The first glimmer of light found him curled around the cushion, dozing fitfully. The shadows retreated, taking with them the visions of the past. He stirred, slowly, and got to his feet. 

His breath seemed loud, and he stayed indoors only long enough to grab some crackers from the kitchen before walking quickly to the door. He didn’t slide along the hall, although in his mind’s eye he could see Takeru doing just that. He could almost hear the laughter, and Takeru’s gleeful encouragement. Almost. 

Opening the door, he blinked. It was a clear day. There was a bright blue sky overhead, without a single cloud, and he could see it. No fog. No mist. He stepped forward, and walked out into the sunshine, letting the warmth of it settle over him. 

_ If Takeru were here, we’d go exploring for certain, _ he thought _. But he’s no _ t. 

Ken was restless, in a way that he couldn’t explain. The lack of any kind of mist or fog just didn’t make sense. It was clearer than he’d ever known this world be, save perhaps in the middle of the night now and then. There was hardly even a haze on the horizon; just rolling, grassy meadows, stretching out around the compound into the distance. It didn’t make sense. The weather might have changed from day to day, but there was always  _ some  _ kind of fog. 

It was all the worse because there was no way for him to know what had happened. All he could do was roam around the gardens, kicking pebbles along the path and trailing his hands through the bushes as he walked. After a few aimless laps of the cottage, he settled by the pond and broke one of the crackers into pieces. The not-fish seemed to like the crumbs. 

The sun rose higher, warm and hot, and Ken couldn’t help but wish he had a hat. There wasn’t a lot of shade in part of the garden where he sat, but the rest of the gardens held too many memories. Maybe he’d be able to face them eventually, but not yet. Not until the sting of loneliness and solitude began to fade. 

He looked down at his hands, still holding the remains of the crackers he didn’t really have any appetite for. It wasn’t that he felt full, exactly - hunger, real or imagined, gnawed at his stomach. Possibly some of his lightheadedness came from the fact he hadn’t eaten or drunk anything since the dry crackers of the evening before, too. 

But hungry as he was, the thought of putting food in his mouth was too much. Each time he broke off a morsel, it ended up going to the not-fish instead, until at last he was left with hands as empty as the rest of him felt. Even the fear and remorse was fading now. He felt  _ nothing _ . As though all his emotions had been sucked out of him in the night, leaving him with just a vague exhaustion and a sense of profound loss. 

The wind picked up, tugging at his clothes and hair, and sending ripples across the pond. The not-fish scattered, disappearing beneath pond weed and lilies. Did they have homes there, or did they only exist for as long as it took to swim around the pond and then vanish into the shadows once more? 

What did it feel like, to disappear? Would he know? When Archnemon returned, would he feel anything? It was a horrible thought - a  _ terrible  _ one, but somehow, he didn’t have the energy to feel anything but idle interest as he asked himself those questions. It was as though someone had muted a television set, and then asked him what he thought of the band playing on it.

He stayed by the pond, although he wasn’t really sure why. The not-fish were hardly exciting, and he knew there was a wealth of other options open to him. Perhaps he could even go exploring by himself - but what was the point in that? At least there was imagined company by the pond. And he’d passed through boredom and out the other side a long while back. 

There were a few crumbs in his pocket, left over from the night before, and he scattered them across the water, watching as the not-fish jostled to snatch them. The surface of the water broke with muted popping noises as they fed. He sat on the bench, letting his hands trace the grain of the wood as the last crumbs disappeared from view.

“Hey!”

Ken turned instinctively towards the voice, eyes going wide. 

It was Takeru. 

Really, honestly; stood in front of him with his clothes rumpled and grass-stained. The relief was overwhelming. He wasn’t alone! Takeru was still here - he hadn’t gone back after all. 

He froze.

Takeru hadn’t gone back. The briefest happiness that he’d felt at seeing the other boy died. If Takeru was still here, that meant he  _ wasn’t  _ in the digital world fighting Archnemon. It meant the others were powerless. All the fear he could no longer feel for himself returned in full force. And if Takeru was still in the same world, where had he  _ been? _

Takeru was staring at him, too. An unfamiliar, penetrating gaze which he’d never seen on the other boy’s face before. What was going on? Takeru was acting different. Normally he would have run over by now, to scold him for not playing already. He’d be laughing, telling Poyomon to…where  _ was  _ Poyomon? Something was badly wrong.

“…Ken?” Takeru said slowly, as though he were trying the word out in his mind. “You’re Ken, aren’t you.” 

Ken felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. He scrambled to his feet and backed away, skirting close to the edge of the pond. He couldn’t be here. Couldn’t do this. He shouldn’t have stayed - he could have gone somewhere else, couldn’t he? Left Takeru in peace and-

“No, wait!” Takeru cried. “Don’t go. I…I’ve been looking for you.”

Ken stopped, but mostly because he wasn’t sure his legs could work any more. Takeru had been looking for  _ him? _ That didn’t make any sense at all - Takeru never worried about things for long, and he  _ never  _ stayed outside after dark. And if he knew his name then that meant he must remember at least  _ something _ , and while that was a good thing for everyone else, it meant it was definitely time for Ken to leave.

“Where did you go?” Takeru asked.

Ken closed his eyes tightly, and shook his head. Even if he  _ could  _ have answered that question, he didn’t want to. This wasn’t about him. He just had to extract himself without causing any more harm. It was obvious that staying at the cottage had been a mistake.

“It wasn’t much fun without you,” Takeru said.

What? Ken looked up sharply, unable to help himself. What did Takeru mean? Wasn’t fun without  _ him? _ Surely he had to be talking about someone else. Was it possible that Takeru had known another Ken, and they’d been muddled up somehow? He could hardly breathe past the turmoil of emotions, let alone think, but his hand rose almost of its own accord and pointed at himself. Talking without words had become so ingrained in his mind that he didn’t really  _ need  _ to think to express himself sometimes.

Takeru nodded. “We…we’re friends, aren’t we?”

No. No they  _ weren’t _ , and that was the whole problem. He was a fraud, an imposter, taking advantage of Takeru’s amnesia to ease his own self-inflicted loneliness. He took a step back. This was all wrong - terribly,  _ awfully  _ wrong. He tried and failed to bite back tears. Even now he was still making things worse. How was Takeru meant to remember the past with someone who shouldn’t be there getting in the way and confusing him? The others  _ needed  _ Takeru.

“What’s wrong?” 

There was nothing but concern in Takeru’s voice now, and it broke Ken’s heart. He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t keep lying and hiding, and trying to avoid the retribution which he deserved. He clenched his fists, looked down at his feet, and then closed his eyes tightly. 

_ I don’t deserve friends, _ he thought, feeling the truth of the words deep in his bones. The tears made his eyes blur for a moment as he opened them and stared at Takeru again, waiting for the point at which the other boy realised the truth. It had to happen, didn’t it? But Takeru just stared at him, eyes as wide as if he’d seen a ghost. 

“ _ Everyone _ should have friends,” Takeru said. “It’s…friendship is really important.”

It was only as Takeru spoke that Ken realised he hadn’t been thinking - he’d said the words  _ aloud _ . The shock of it, combined with the bitter knowledge that Takeru was wrong -  _ had  _ to be wrong - made him shudder. He turned to run, sure from Takeru’s change in attitude that he’d ruined everything, but tripped. His arms pinwheeled as his feet went out from under him and he landed heavily in the pond with a splash. Too surprised to even close his eyes, he saw the silvery glint of not-fish darting out of the way, then surfaced and stood there, waist deep in the water. 

The fall was like a reset button - he didn’t know what to do, or what to think. This wasn’t how it was meant to happen, was it? Everything was all upside down, and he just wanted the earth to swallow him whole.

Instead, he felt a hand wrap around his wrist and pull - Takeru had run over to help. He was still acting on autopilot as he let the other boy help him out of the water, and then before he had time to gather his thoughts, Takeru hugged him tightly. Ken froze, eyes wide with surprise and panic. What was he supposed to do? 

“I’m glad you’re safe,” Takeru said into his shoulder, apparently not bothered by the fact they were now  _ both  _ soaking wet. “You just disappeared, and then Hikari came and said we should look for you and we looked  _ everywhere _ . But you were here all the time. What happened?”

It took a second or two for the words to sink in, and then Ken pulled away sharply, putting his hands up in front of himself as though he were warding off an attack.

“Hikari?” he blurted out, trying to make sense of everything. “…You remember Hikari?” His heart hammered loudly in his chest. If Takeru remembered her, then surely that meant-

“I don’t want to talk about remembering stuff,” Takeru mumbled, looking at the ground. “Most of it’s bad.”

Ken felt sick. Here it was. The confrontation. Would Takeru turn on him? Visions of the other boy with grey-red eyes and a vicious expression filled his mind. He couldn’t even blame Takeru if he wanted revenge. It would be more than justified. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, backing up and making sure to avoid the pond this time. “I’m…I’m so sorry. I didn’t…”

“Why are you apologising?” Takeru said, frowning slightly. “You haven’t-”

Ken flinched as Takeru gasped, staggering. The other boy’s eyes glazed over as he clutched at his head, and then he was whimpering in pain, mumbling words which Ken couldn’t quite make out. 

“Takeru,” Ken said, worried. “Are you-”

But Takeru was crying now, murmuring: “No. No, no no no. Don’t -  _ please! _ You can’t - you mustn’t!” He screamed with pain and Ken backed up, remembering those words and that cry. He knew. He  _ had  _ to know.

He turned and ran, hating himself for his cowardice almost as much as he hated himself for what he’d done to Takeru. 

“Ken!” Takeru cried from somewhere behind him. “Wait! Please don’t go!”

He didn’t stop -  _ couldn’t  _ stop. How could he face Takeru after all this? How could he stand there and admit to what he’d done? He was a monster, and if he was too much of a coward to face his crimes he didn’t have any place being near people. He ran through the gardens and out of the gate, not even surprised to see that the rolling meadows of the morning had turned into sandy dunes. A desert was a fitting enough exile, after all. Nothing to ruin. No one to hurt. Just himself and the sand, and the aching, burning guilt and remorse which he would carry forever. 

But even that seemed denied him. At the top of the first dune the sand shifted and he fell; tumbling over and over until he landed in a heap at the bottom of the unsteady slope. He gave in to his misery, and wept.


	12. Old Friends and New

Ken was too exhausted to even flinch when he felt a hand a hand on his shoulder. It let go again after a moment, and he heard a gentle thump beside him.

“I think I remember now,” said Takeru’s voice, quiet and sad. “Well, sort of. You did some pretty bad things.”

Here it came. The condemnation. He froze, anticipating Takeru’s justifiable anger. He didn’t deserve to defend himself, but he tensed up all the same, waiting to be judged. Ken hardly dared breathe.

“So did I,” Takeru said, as though he wasn’t even paying much attention. “It was…you did something to me, right? I don’t remember all of it, but there was something you put in my neck. It made me…well, a pretty terrible person, to be honest.”

Somehow, the calm way in which Takeru was explaining it all made it worse. There was no anger, no emotion, just the facts - and they alone condemned him more than anything else. Ken couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. He just lay there, letting the guilt cut ever deeper. 

“I wish I didn’t have all these memories,” Takeru went on. “I wish I hadn’t done the things I’ve done. I’m not really sure how I’m going to explain myself to Tokomon, or Hikari, or the others…except, they already know, don’t they? Everyone knows - they know more than I do, because my head’s still a mess trying to work out what happened, or…or even who I am. But Hikari still helped me. And she wanted to help  _ you  _ as well. And you’re still my friend, even if you’ve done bad things.”

Ken looked up. He couldn’t let this continue any longer. Scared and cowardly as he felt, it just wasn’t  _ right _ . 

“But you didn’t remember me,” he said, avoiding Takeru’s eyes. Part of him expected them to turn grey. “You wouldn’t have been my friend if you had. If you’d known what I did to you…” 

He stopped talking as the words turned to a lump in his throat.  _ If you remembered how many times you said you’d never forgive me _ , he thought, thinking back to the days when Takeru had merely been his prisoner. 

Takeru shrugged, shaking him from the past. 

“Maybe,” the other boy said. “But I’m glad I didn’t remember, because you know what? I like being your friend. And I don’t think you’re a bad person any more. So, maybe you don’t feel like you deserve friends. I’m not really sure I do either, to be honest. I…I made Tokomon do things which should  _ never  _ have happened. Things I’d never forgive anyone else for, so I can’t forgive myself either. And I hurt my friends - a lot. But Hikari and Tokomon seem to want to be my friends anyway, even after all that. And I’m the same with you.”

Ken stared at him, hardly able to believe his ears. It didn’t make any sense. 

“Why?” he said. 

He half expected it to be some sort of trick to get him to let his guard down. Takeru stared at him for long minutes, obviously troubled. Here it comes, Ken thought.

“Because, I don’t think I can forgive myself,” Takeru said. “But I can forgive you.”

Ken gaped, unable to think of anything to say. Takeru  _ forgave  _ him? This wasn’t some minor grievance - he’d almost killed him! 

“I don’t remember everything from before,” the other boy added, and Ken felt his stomach clench.  _ This  _ was why, then. He sat with his hands clenched into fists as Takeru continued, waiting for the anger which he deserved:

“I feel like there’s a huge part of me missing. And maybe some of the bad things you did are in that missing bit, but what I  _ do  _ remember is you being my friend. I remember making those furniture forts, and climbing trees, and exploring together. I remember how you’d always try and give Poyomon half your food and then he’d give it back. I remember…” Takeru’s voice faltered. “I remember how lonely it was, when I woke up one morning and you were gone. We looked everywhere, you know. Why did you leave?”

Ken looked down at the sand beneath them. What could he say? Takeru’s head had to be enough of a mess as it was. And if he didn’t fully remember everything, then there was still a chance he could regress, wasn’t there?

“I didn’t want to,” he mumbled. “But I’m not sure if I can explain what happened. Gennai said-”

“Who’s Gennai?” Takeru asked, cutting him off.

Ken winced, and shuffled backward, wondering if this was the part where he set off the bad reaction he’d been warned about.

“Uhh…I shouldn’t have said that,” he blurted out, trying to put a bit of distance between them in case the other boy lashed out. “I’m so sorry Takeru, I didn’t- It’s nothing, you don’t have to worry…”

Takeru held up a hand. “Wait,” he said, in a tone of voice which looked disconcertingly mature for his appearance. 

Takeru’s brow furrowed, and he stared off into the distance as though he were entering a trance. Ken froze, not sure what he should do. Was Takeru okay? It was just the two of them - what was he supposed to do if something bad happened? The seconds inched by, until at last Takeru blinked, and looked curiously at him.

“How do you know Gennai?” he asked, as though staring off into space was nothing to be remarked on. 

Ken couldn’t help but wonder if Takeru even realised how long he’d been sat there looking so vacant. It was obvious that the other boy’s memory was still patchy. What exactly had happened in the week he’d been gone?

“I met him,” Ken said, trying to think of a way to broach the subject. “He…uh…He wanted to help you remember everything, but he couldn’t. But you remember things now, so did he find a way?”

Takeru shook his head emphatically. “I haven’t seen Gennai in  _ years _ . Not since I was eight.”

It was strange to hear Takeru refer to himself as being older than that, when he looked just the same as he always had. 

“I started remembering things when we were looking for you,” he went on. “Everywhere we went turned out to be somewhere I’d already been before. And then, here you are, back where we started.”

Ken looked down, not sure how he ought to feel. Had…had  _ he  _ triggered the return of Takeru’s memory, by disappearing? It was almost too much to believe, but if Takeru was telling the truth - and there really wasn’t any reason for him to lie - then perhaps his presence hadn’t been a mistake after all.

“I…I’m glad, in a way,” Ken said at last, trying to make sense of the jumble of emotions running through his mind. “Glad you remember. At least something good came out of it. I just wish…” He trailed off, not daring to finish that sentence. _ I just wish I hadn’t allowed them to get the seed. That I hadn’t let everyone down, and dragged all those other children they mentioned into this. If I’d said something to Gennai- _

Takeru nudged him with an elbow, and he looked up, surprised.

“I don’t think we can change what happened,” Takeru said, smiling weakly. “But I don’t think we want to be those people again, either.”

Ken shook his head. “But I  _ can’t  _ escape it,” he moaned, as the reality of his situation reared up in his mind once more. What kind of person  _ could  _ he be when he was technically lying unconscious somewhere in the digital world? “I’m not strong enough to get away. And more and more children will end up just the same and it’s all my fault!”

“What are you talking about?” Takeru asked. 

“The seed,” Ken said miserably. It was almost a relief to finally tell someone. “He copied it, and he’s doing the same thing to other children that I did to you.”

“ _ Who _ is?” Takeru asked.

A cold dread settled over Ken’s shoulders. He stared at Takeru, mentally kicking himself. How could he be such an idiot?

“I…oh no! You don’t know that part,” he said, aware that he was starting to babble. He couldn’t seem to stop. “It happened after you came here. I shouldn’t have-”

“Why won’t anyone  _ tell  _ me things!” Takeru yelled, standing up and scowling. “I just want to know what’s going on, because ever since Hikari got here, it’s like everyone has this secret they’re keeping from me. And I’m tired, and hungry, and I’m fed up with being confused about everything. I just want…I want…”

He trailed off, face glazing over. Ken wondered if Takeru realised he’d started crying. He felt like the worst person in the world. This was  _ his  _ fault. None of it would have happened to Takeru if it hadn’t been for him. And even now Takeru’s memory seemed to be returning it wasn’t perfect. Would he keep having these…these episodes where he disconnected from everything? And what about his rapid shifts in personality? 

Ken refused to allow himself comfort. He didn’t  _ deserve  _ comfort. He’d ruined Takeru’s life and he’d quite possibly doomed the entire digital world, and he certainly didn’t deserve the fact that so far, the person who had declared that they wanted him dead was Archnemon. 

“Yamato,” Takeru said suddenly. “I want my Onii-chan.”

The words were like a punch in the gut. 

“He misses you,” Ken said softly, certain that it was more than understatement. He hadn’t seen Yamato in months, but the anguished expression on his face was something he couldn’t forget.  _ And you never stop missing your brother.  _ “A lot of people miss you.” 

“People miss you as well,” Takeru said, sitting down in front of him and fixing him with a far more serious expression than he looked as though he should be capable of. “Your parents, your partner…your friends, too.”

Ken felt as though someone had grabbed his heart and  _ squeezed _ . It was bad enough, the assumption that he actually  _ had  _ friends, or thinking about the worry he must be putting his parents through once more, but…

“Leafmon,” he mumbled, as the memories he had tried so hard to bury came back in a rush. “I…I don’t know what happened to him.” Over and over he saw Wormmon in his mind’s eye, vanishing into a cloud of data particles. Over and over he saw the small shape of Leafmon roll out from his bag and onto the road. Over and over he saw his partner hatch from an egg, small and vulnerable and blameless, and in so much danger because of him. 

“Then we’ll find him,” Takeru said firmly. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Takeru smiling confidently at him, as though he had no worries in the world.

“I promise,” the other boy added. 

And it was the strangest thing, but for a moment Ken actually believed him.

 

* * *

 

They sat for a minute or so longer, not saying anything. Eventually, Takeru got to his feet and held out a hand.

“Come on, let’s go. We should get back to the cottage.”

Ken stared at him for a moment. His thoughts kept looping over and over: _ I don’t deserve this. Why is he being so nice? He ought to hate me. But what about Leafmon? I can’t just abandon him. Is he even still there to find? I shouldn’t have left him like that. I’m a monster. I don’t deserve Takeru’s friendship. Why isn’t he angry at me? But, does it matter if it means finding Leafmon… _

“Ken,” Takeru said, looking around at the sand dunes. “Whatever happens, we can’t stay here.”

He knew Takeru was right. And if they were going to head back to the cottage, it made sense to go together. It was better than being alone, certainly. Ken still wasn’t sure how Takeru had coped for so long. Even with Leafmon, it had to have been a very lonely existence. He’d almost cracked from it by the end of the first day.

_ Takeru kept going _ , he thought. _ Even after everything that happened, he got up every day and made the best of things. And now he’s offering to help me. How could I have done all those things to him? How could I ever hope to make things right? _

But he got to his feet despite the turmoil in his mind. He owed it to Leafmon to do whatever he could to find him. And Takeru was right. There was nothing for anyone to gain by staying in the desert.

_ I just have to find Leafmon _ , he thought _. I don’t need to ask for anything else after that. They don’t need me now that Takeru has his memory back. _

He let that one sink in as they made their way back across the sand. For some reason, the thought wasn’t as comforting as it had been in the past. He didn’t want to admit it - didn’t want to acknowledge his selfishness - but he was going to miss Takeru’s company. 

Of course, that was assuming they were able to  _ part  _ company. 

“I, uh…don’t suppose you know how to get out of here, do you?” Takeru asked as they were sitting on the wall outside the cottage. “We walked quite a long way, and I didn’t ever find an end to this place. I don’t actually know where we  _ are _ .”

Ken shook his head. He wasn’t sure what he could say. Somehow, ‘I think we’re in a coma and this whole place is just some kind of weird extended dreamworld’ struck him as a bad way to put it. But Takeru would need to be eased into the idea  _ somehow _ . 

“I…I don’t know much myself, other than that Gennai created this place somehow. It’s…it’s artificial, I guess.” he said. “I just…woke up here one day, and I only managed to leave last time because…” He stopped. No, it wasn’t fair to burden Takeru with  _ that  _ mess, was it?

“I’m not sure how much I should really tell you,” he said, knowing that Takeru would probably find it a woefully inadequate answer. “When I saw the others, they mentioned that shocks kept making you forget things again.”

He regretted the words as soon as they were out. Takeru’s expression had changed almost immediately, from wry confusion to apprehension and fear.

“What? How…how long have I been here? And what do you mean about it being artificial - are you saying  _ nothing  _ here is real?” Takeru asked. Ken could hear the quaver in his voice.

He froze, panicking. _ What do I do now? I can’t risk telling him the truth - not when he’s so close to being able to go home!  _

But the fact remained that if he didn’t give an answer, Takeru was almost certainly going to assume the worst. Would that be enough to tip him over the edge? He needed to think of something fast, before-

“Takeru! And… _ Ken? _ Is that you?”

Ken flinched, and turned to see a girl who had to be Hikari, holding Patamon in her arms. In keeping with whatever passed for normal in this world she was younger than in reality, but there was no mistaking her. Besides, Takeru had mentioned travelling with Hikari. He ought to have expected it, if he’d been thinking straight. But he hadn’t been, and now she was  _ here _ , and he had no words to explain why or how he had intruded on Takeru’s place of recovery - and did he even deserve to defend his actions, anyway? 

And then Patamon leapt out of her arms and through the air, and barrelled right into Takeru, sending them flying backwards off the wall and onto the grass beyond it. Ken stared in surprise, his train of thought utterly derailed.

“Takeru!” Patamon cried. “You ran away, and we were so worried about you! And then we found your bag all alone and we got even  _ more  _ worried! You have to stop running off like that!”

Ken looked away as Takeru stared at Patamon with wide, teary eyes. He felt even more of an intruder than he had before. This wasn’t a place where he should be. And as Takeru’s voice cracked with profound apologies, Ken wished he could disappear. It wasn’t Takeru’s fault. None of this was Takeru’s fault - it was  _ his  _ fault. He was the one who ought to be apologising to everyone, if he weren’t too filled with shame to even speak. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Patamon said to Takeru, cutting the other boy off. “I know that. You wouldn’t have done any of those things if you hadn’t had that dark seed in you.”

Ken wanted to die of shame.  _ He  _ had put that seed there. He’d looked Takeru in the eye and laughed as he ruined his whole life. He couldn’t move. He wanted to run - but running wouldn’t get him anywhere. He couldn’t escape his own past. It was only right to face up to his own actions, terrifying as the prospect was.

There was a soft sound of feet on stone, and he opened his eyes to see Patamon, staring intently intently at his face from a perch beside him on the wall. 

“And it wasn’t your fault either,” the little digimon said. “Hikari told me what happened.”

He shook his head. No. No more hiding from the past. It had only made things worse. “It  _ is  _ all my fault though,” he said. “All the things I did-”

“Ken, you were being manipulated too.” It was Hikari who spoke, and he looked up in surprise to see her walking over. Why was she defending him? “We  _ all  _ know that. And Leafmon’s safe. He found Koushiro at his apartment and explained. Where are you? We don’t know where to look.”

It was as though time had stopped. Hikari carried on talking but he only half heard the rest of her words. Leafmon was safe. Leafmon was  _ safe _ . The relief was like shedding a heavy load he hadn’t even realised he was carrying. He felt light - light and optimistic in a way he couldn’t even have contemplated just moments before. 

“He’s okay?” he asked, but he didn’t really need to hear it again. He could  _ feel  _ the truth of it. Leafmon was safe! Perhaps there was still some way for things to work out after all.

“What are you talking about?” Takeru said suddenly. He had gotten to his feet, unnoticed by Ken, and now swept Patamon into his arms almost possessively. He turned to Hikari.

“Ken’s right here,” he said to her. “And…now I think about it - Patamon, how did you evolve? You were with Hikari, not me.”

Ken stared at the other boy. 

_ Oh _ . 

How must Takeru feel, to be struggling with memories of a past he had had no control over, in the middle of a present which must make so little sense? He’d said there were gaps in his mind. He’d admitted to not knowing where they were. And, while Ken had to admit that he wasn’t sure how digimon went about evolving  _ ordinarily _ , from what he had seen, they were with their partners when it happened. 

_ And he doesn’t know that, physically, he is right next to Patamon. _

“It’s not easy to explain,” Hikari said, her voice strained. “A lot happened after…well.”

“After Magnamon defeated Devimon and made him devolve back into Poyomon,” Ken said, looking back down at the wall. It was hardly fair to lay the burden of explaining it on Hikari, when what had happened was his own fault. 

He swallowed heavily, and continued. “You didn’t go back to normal the way everyone expected you to. With me, once I realised what was going on the seed lost its power. But…Gennai thinks that because the one in you is a copy, and you were technically data when it took over… there were complications.” 

It was a woefully inadequate explanation, but how could he describe it? Surely it wasn’t fair to tell Takeru that he had been physically corrupted to the point where he was barely recognisable. 

“What kind of complications?” Takeru asked, although his tone of voice suggested that he would be open to their being evasive about their answer.

Hikari sighed. “It spread. We…we got you back to Gennai, and he said that because the seed was data, and you were as well, it didn’t stay just in your neck. It was everywhere. Like…like a virus taking over.”

_ No, not just ‘like’. It  _ was  _ a virus taking over. _

“But…it’s fixed now, right? I’m okay again?” Takeru asked, and the uncertainty in his voice cut far deeper than anger could have. 

Ken felt ill. He shouldn’t be there. He shouldn’t  _ be  _ there. He had no place in the conversation between Takeru, Patamon, and Hikari, as the latter two struggled to bring their friend and partner up to speed. He had no business being anywhere near any of them. He was the monster who had put them all in this position in the first place, after all. 

He sat with head bowed, trying not to listen in on the conversation, as Hikari and Patamon ran through much the explanation he had heard from Koushiro. Wishing he was sat far enough away that he could run without attracting attention. He slid off the wall, having made up his mind to give running a go  _ anyway _ , when Takeru broke out of a short reverie and asked:

“How long?” 

Ken looked up, eyes widening. Takeru didn’t know? He looked from Takeru to Hikari, unsure what to say. The silence stretched out, second after second, until Hikari looked back at Takeru and took a breath.

“How long do you think it’s been?” she asked, her voice every bit as hesitant as the expression on her face.

Takeru swallowed nervously, and glanced down at Patamon.

“…A few weeks?” he said. The apprehension in his voice was enough to claw at Ken’s heart. 

“Three months,” Hikari said, her voice leaden and flat. “Plus a couple of weeks if you mean since the point you were captured.”

For once awful, sickening moment, all Ken could see was that moment when he had forced the seed upon Takeru, and watched as his skin turned grey. A wave of pallor washed over Takeru now in a similar fashion, as his legs shook and buckled beneath him. He landed on the ground with a thump, still clutching Patamon in white-knuckled hands. The little digimon squeaked a protest, but Takeru didn’t appear to notice. He just kept staring at Hikari, mouth agape. 

_ This is what you did.  _

He’d ruined Takeru’s life. He could tell by the slow, creeping horror which inched over the other boy’s face. By the look of growing comprehension which followed it.

Takeru gasped. “I…I’m-”

“In a coma,” Ken said. It wasn’t fair to make Hikari deliver  _ that  _ news, although his own voice was so faint he could barely be heard. “We all are.”

“But you see, that’s what I don’t understand!” Hikari said, making him flinch. Takeru hardly seemed to have noticed. “I know how Takeru and I got here - and Patamon, of course - but Ken, you…you’re missing. How did you end up here too?”

Ken sighed. “I’m not really sure,” he mumbled. “It all happened after Archnemon dumped me in the digital world. I just woke up here without knowing why. And then I ran into Takeru, and I didn’t know where else I could go, and, well…”

They turned to look at Takeru, who hadn’t moved from the spot where he had gracelessly landed. He didn’t even seem to notice them as they drew closer, or as Hikari crouched beside him and waved a hand in front of his face. 

“Takeru,” she said, and sighed as he didn’t respond. “Takeru, are you okay?”

He turned to look at her, but Ken wasn’t convinced the other boy was all there. It was too much, probably. Too much information to have given him all at once. But with the seed being spread, there simply wasn’t  _ time  _ to ease him into things more gently, was there? 

“Takeru,” Patamon said firmly, nudging his partner.

“I…I… Why is this  _ happening? _ ” Takeru asked, as his eyes filled with tears.

Ken wished the earth would swallow him whole. Wished that he’d never approached the cottage. Wished that he’d never been  _ born _ . 

“Takeru, listen to me,” Hikari said, her voice kind but serious. “I’m real, okay? I know what you must be thinking right now, but I  _ promise  _ this is real. What Gennai did…” She sighed. “You’ll have to ask him or Koushiro about it all later, but when he gave you the anti-virus it wasn’t as simple as just purging all the corruption out of you. So he made this place. It’s sort of…our bodies stay in the digital world, but we are here. He’s even been visiting to check on you. He… Takeru. Are you listening to me, Takeru?”

To judge by the confused blink, Takeru had started zoning out again. It was familiar and yet not - a pattern of behaviour he had seen on a far smaller scale every day for however long since he had first woken up. There was a strange sort of sense in the fact that the return of Takeru’s memories had only made things more extreme.

“Why am I here?” Takeru asked, his voice a little dazed. 

Ken bit the inside of his cheek. This was uncomfortably close to how Takeru behaved when his memory was particularly bad.  _ Please don’t forget it all now,  _ he thought. _ You’re so close to going home. _

Hikari sighed. “It was the only way to save you,” she said, letting her knees come to rest on the ground so that she was kneeling, instead of crouching. “When Gennai purged the virus, it…all your memories were tangled up in it. Everything that makes you you. If he’d just completely flushed it out, all that would have been lost too. The only way was to send you here. To split off that part of your data and keep it safe, and let the anti-virus clear it piece by piece. Except, even after Gennai did that, you didn’t seem to remember anything. So then it was safer to let you stay here until you  _ did  _ remember something.”

_ The anti-virus _ , Ken thought suddenly. _ Could that be- _

“So why are you here now?” Takeru asked Hikari. 

It was a good question. Why  _ was  _ Hikari here?

“Leafmon told us Ken was taken prisoner by…” Hikari faltered, and Ken felt himself tense as she took a breath and continued: “Well, the  _ real  _ cause behind all of this. He’s missing. And Gennai said you’d mentioned a boy being here with you. It was the only lead we had, so I came to help, seeing as you didn’t really trust Gennai. We…we really need you back, Takeru.”

She got to her feet, and Ken found himself leaning back slightly as she turned to face him. “You too, Ken. We can’t fight them without you both.”

He stared at her and took a step towards the safety of the gate. 

“But…I can’t. Leafmon is too small, and…and…” He swallowed heavily, and hung his head, staring down at his shoes. “They don’t trust me. Why should they? It’s all my fault, and now he’s using the seed to do the same thing again-”

“What do you mean?” Hikari asked. “And who are you talking about? Leafmon told us that  _ Archnemon  _ kidnapped you.”

Ken looked up, and nodded. How much should he say in front of Takeru? “She’s working for someone else,” he said, wishing he could remember the name the man had given. He’d said something about a connection to his father, hadn’t he? 

“So, if you were kidnapped, how did you end up here?” Takeru asked. He sounded a little more steady than earlier, if no less confused. 

Ken shifted uneasily. He  _ really  _ didn’t want to think about that, but at the same time, the others needed answers. 

“They…they copied the seed and they’re putting it in more children,” he said heavily. That was the most important part, surely? “And they’re keeping me in the digital world so…so I can’t escape. Without my D3…”

“We found it in your bedroom,” Hikari said, and he looked up sharply. They  _ had  _ it? She nodded. “Where are you? We can get you out, but we need to know where to look.”

“I…” He faltered. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, anyway. They already have a copy of the seed. It…it’s not me you need to worry about. There’s a human - at least, I  _ think  _ he’s human - and Archnemon and Mummymon report to him. I overheard him say something about gathering new hosts. They’ll have implanted it in other children by now. You have to find them and stop the seed making them end up like I did, or worse.”

Hikari frowned. “But you know what this man looks like. You could help us. And you’re trapped now; we can fix everything once you’re safe. Those children won’t have partners - there just  _ aren’t  _ any other Chosen Children in Tokyo. We’ll have time. Besides, the more who can help look, the better.”

Ken flinched. “I won’t be able to help,” he said, sighing. “I’m…they…” He looked away. “My real body is too weak to walk. You should focus on helping the others, before it’s too late for them.”

Hikari stared at him. “But that’s even  _ more  _ reason for us to find you quickly! Look, you said you’re in the digital world. Where? What could you see? Or…or  _ feel _ , if you couldn’t see anything.”

Ken sighed. “Leafmon might remember where it is. It’s… it’s the same place where Archnemon… It’s a rocky ledge, and there’s a forest below. I don’t know any more than that. It didn’t look familiar to me, but then… most of my memory from the digital world isn’t very clear.”

He fell silent. There  _ wasn’t  _ much point in anyone looking for him. Chances were that Archnemon would beat them to it - but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to mention as much to Hikari. Especially not while Takeru was around, looking as lost and uncertain as Ken had ever seen him. 

“So what do we do now?” Takeru asked after a few moments’ silence.

Hikari shrugged. “Now we wake up, I guess. Gennai’s been keeping me under this whole time, so we just have to let him know we’re ready to go back.”

Takeru frowned. “But what about Ken? How does he wake up?”

Ken turned away so that Takeru wouldn’t see him wince. He didn’t want to think about it, but then again, he had to say  _ something… _

“I’m not sure I can,” he mumbled. “It wouldn’t do much good, anyway. There’s a guard, and I…” He stopped. No. He couldn’t let Takeru know the rest. It simply wasn’t fair. They’d find out soon enough, anyway.

“Well, it’s only one guard, right? So it’s nothing we can’t handle. We’ll get you out.” Takeru replied, with dogged, unflagging optimism. 

Ken wondered where it came from. How Takeru could bounce back from what had appeared to be an emotional breakdown with such unrelenting cheer. It was apparently infectious, too, because Hikari nodded, and managed a trace of a smile.

“We can bring you back to Gennai. Even if you can’t…” She cleared her throat. “He’ll know what to do. He’s always come through before.”

“It won’t stop him,” Ken said, trying not to sound as scared as he felt. “They don’t really  _ need  _ me any more - that’s why there’s only one guard.”

Hikari fixed him with a determined gaze. “Then once we find you, we find  _ him _ , and put a stop to it once and for all,” she said.

Beside her, Takeru nodded, holding Patamon comfortably in his arms. “We’re coming back, Ken,” he said, with no trace of uncertainty. “I promise.”

“Now  _ that’s  _ the Takeru I remember,” Hikari said, smiling. She turned to Ken. “You can trust him, believe me.”

They made their way along the path to the gateway. Ken did his best to keep up a cheery appearance, but it wasn’t easy. The most he could be cheerful about was the fact that Takeru really had got his memory back. That meant Gennai’s backup plan would work after all. 

But of course, it was a double-edged sword, really. Takeru remembered who he was in time to save the day. But he had a great many bad memories to hang round his neck, most of which Ken knew he should take responsibility for instead. 

Takeru stopped at the gateway. He looked nervous, hugging Patamon tightly and keeping his head down. Hikari smiled first at him, then Ken. 

“We should get going. I’m…I wish there was a way we could take you back with us, but…”

Ken nodded, biting back tears. “It’s fine, honestly. Tell…” He coughed, hiding a hitch in his voice. He didn’t want them to know he was scared. “Tell Leafmon I’m glad he’s safe. And…and I’m so proud of him - proud to have been his partner.”

Takeru gave him an odd, confused look, but Hikari shook her head. She pursed her lips, then stepped forward and hugged him.

“You can tell him yourself, you know,” she said, keeping her voice low. “Because we won’t abandon you like that. You’re one of us.”

He didn’t have the words left to deny what she said, or protest that he didn’t deserve her being so nice. All he could do was smile sadly as she and Takeru waved, and made their way up the snow-capped hill. 

And then he was alone once more.


	13. Introspection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _It's not a content warning as **such** , but this...is a fairly dark and angsty chapter, even by the standard already set in Renascent. Just a heads up. _

Somehow, it seemed even quieter after Hikari, Takeru, and Patamon left than it had been before they arrived. It wasn’t the undisturbed silence of a still dawn any more - it was raw and recent, and achingly lonely. 

Ken had wondered briefly if he ought to follow them up the hill, but decided to hang back. It was bad enough  _ knowing  _ that they were leaving, after all, without actually watching them disappear. As soon as they crested the steps and hurried off in search of - presumably- that warm circle in the middle of it all, he turned and walked back to the security of the cottage gardens. 

He told himself he was glad for Takeru, and not just that the others had a chance to stop Archnemon now that he had recovered. In truth, it was difficult not to feel envy, as well. Takeru had his partner with him, and he was going home to family and friends who loved him.

_ But Leafmon’s safe _ , he thought, sinking onto the bench by the pond. _ And that’s all that matters, really. Isn’t it?  _

How had Leafmon done it? How had he, so small and frail, made his way from Tamachi all the way to Odaiba? To an apartment building he had seen a grand total of one time, and without any help? For such a tiny digimon, it was an almost impossible feat. 

He’d avoided thinking about the day Archnemon had captured him. It was the stuff of most people’s nightmares, after all, even if his own were far worse. But in all the chaos, he’d hardly been able to see the small shape of his partner rolling away. Weeks on, it was little more than a blur in his mind, despite the clarity of everything else. So much had happened. He couldn’t remember - had Leafmon been hurt? He’d had to kick the bag quite hard, after all. 

Doubt flickered in his mind. Could he  _ really  _ believe that after everything - after all this time - Leafmon was really safe? It was too good to be true. And it felt like the sort of comfort you offered someone when you knew they’d never have the chance to find out it was just that. 

How would he ever find out, after all? The chances were that Archnemon would come back to…to…well, that she would come back long before the others found his body. All he could do was sit and wait for the inevitable. 

Sit and wait, and watch the not-fish. They didn’t have any worries. All they did was swim, and swim. What would it be like, to have no worries? To feel safe, and content, and happy? 

_ I wish I could be like them _ , he thought.  _ I wish none of this had ever happened. I wish…I wish… _

_ I wish Leafmon was here.  _

It was easier by far to feel strong with his partner there. Easier to believe that, despite everything, there was someone out there who forgave him, honestly and truly. Someone who knew all his worst secrets, all the darkest things he had ever done, and loved him unconditionally despite them. No one else knew. No one else had been there through thick and thin. And now Leafmon was gone, and all he had was a promise that, somewhere, out in another world which he could conceivably never see again, his partner had overcome insurmountable odds and survived, and found the one group of people in an entire city who could actually help. 

He wanted to believe it was true. He  _ desperately  _ wanted it to be true. Wanted Leafmon to be strong enough, brave enough. Wanted to be the sort of partner who inspired that kind of feat - but he wasn’t really, was he? He wasn’t the sort of person who could drive anyone to do that. He’d been  _ horrible  _ to Leafmon. He’d neglected him, hurt him, belittled him. And his recklessness had even gotten his partner  _ killed _ . Leafmon had had to start over because of him; small and weak and frail. Too helpless to be left alone in the digital world. 

He’d never laughed or played with Leafmon the way Takeru had with Poyomon. Takeru was a good partner - the kind who deserved that sort of loyalty. Takeru deserved Patamon’s love and care, the same way he deserved to be back with the people who had been worrying about him for three months, waiting for him to go home to them.

Three months. If Takeru had been recovering for three months, how long did that mean  _ he  _ had been trapped? Weeks and weeks had to have passed. He’d have been declared missing again.

The thought rose up in his mind, shattering a wall which he hadn’t even noticed putting up. As much as not wanting to think about Leafmon, he hadn’t wanted to think about how his parents must be feeling. He’d promised his mother he wouldn’t be out long. He hadn’t even  _ seen  _ his father on the day he’d disappeared. What was the last thing he’d said to him? What was the last thing he’d said to his mother?

Had he told them he loved them? 

It was too long ago - too hazy in his mind - and as much as he told himself that surely,  _ surely  _ he would have, he really couldn’t be convinced. His eyes filled with tears, which spilled over and rolled down his cheeks, pooling at the nape of his neck. Would they ever know what had happened? It wasn’t fair. Wasn’t fair for them to lose  _ two  _ sons. And as much as there was a soft, insidious voice whispering that death was the only justice left for him, he couldn’t help wanting to live. Wanting to go home, and let his mother wrap her arms around him and tell him he was safe.

_ Safe. What would that feel like?  _

It hurt to know that he couldn’t remember. Couldn’t think back far enough to find a time when everything had been right. He knew there  _ had  _ been one. Before this not-world, before Takeru, before the Kaiser. Before the shadows of his past, dark and empty, there was a place in his mind - tucked deep within him and closed up tight - which held memories of a happier time. 

_ Of bubbles and balconies, and a person who he unquestioningly believed to be the better one. The clever one. The good one. The loved one. The favourite one. Memories seethed and bubbled in the depths of his mind, rising up out of his grief and despair to fill his waking thoughts. Jealousy, envy. No one cared about him, not when he stood behind such an obviously superior brother. Who would want him all the while Osamu was around? Clever Osamu, wonderful Osamu. And then  _ angry  _ Osamu, when he ignored his brother’s strict instructions and touched the thing which fell out of the computer and lit up just for  _ him  _ instead.  _

_ “Don’t touch it, it’s mine,” Osamu had said, strict and cross, but Ken had been unable to resist. It had called to him, that small thing, and when he’d held it….well… _ something _ had happened. Something to do with Wormmon? But then he’d fallen back out of the computer, and Osamu had been so cross. It was wrong, Ken was wrong. He was bad and no good and Osamu was the one everyone wanted, and really, with a prickle of irritation that started in the back of his mind he just wanted his brother to go away. To go away and stop being better, cleverer, favoured. To just go away and let Ken have a chance.  _

_ And he had. Ken had wished, and wanted, and now Osamu was gone. And it was all his fault. He was bad, bad, bad, and…and why not? Why not do what he must to be wanted, to be clever. To be better - no, to be the  _ best _. Because he had a seed inside him, and all he needed to do was let it grow. A rare and special thing, the email said. Let it grow and blossom. Use it, because he had been Chosen. He had unlimited potential, if he but tapped into it- _

_ A flash of blue skies, amid the green of leaves. Laughter and fun, and blue eyes which danced and shone, set in a face which hardly ever stopped smiling. _

_ Blue eyes. Blue eyes scowling at him, flinty and stern in a face pressed against steel bars. _

_ “Let me go, Ichijouji! You can’t keep me here like this. You can’t  _ do  _ this! You’re hurting them! Digimon are real - they’re alive! How can you treat them so badly! You’re a monster!” _

Ken flinched, feeling hot pain flare in his neck before dying away. He realised he was breathing heavily, as though he’d run a race. His body burned, muscles tense and sore. Gasping, he scrambled off the bench beneath him, turning and practically throwing himself down the path. He didn’t look where he was going, could hardly see where he  _ was  _ \- just set one foot before the other, tripping and stumbling along as though if he ran far enough, he might escape the nightmares in his own mind. 

He tripped, thrusting his arms out to break his fall and rolling hard onto his back. When he opened his eyes he saw branches above him, decked with leaves and the occasional blossom here and there. There were ropes, too, hanging at odd intervals, and after a moment of frantic gasping to regain the air which had been knocked from his lungs, he realised he knew this place. Knew those trees. It was the garden where he had first played with Takeru, all those weeks before.

There was no laughter now. There was no one to tell him to hurry up and climb, or to help him forget his problems. It wasn’t easy to tell himself that was a good thing, when he was all alone in the world. But it was. Deep down, past the anger and the hurt, past the guilt and remorse, he really  _ was  _ glad. Takeru deserved to go home, and if it had taken him being trapped here, being kidnapped and stranded, and left behind, well… it didn’t change the fact that it was the way things had to be. 

Really, the only regret that it was worth keeping hold of was that he’d never had a chance to say goodbye to everyone. All the other things were over, finished. His life was the last loose end. Takeru was strong, and good, and the others had him back now. Hadn’t Koushiro said that Gennai’s plan relied on Takeru, and then they would be able to stop Archnemon? That meant it was okay. He could stop. If Leafmon really  _ was  _ safe, that was good, and if he wasn’t - well, Takeru and Hikari knew about that too. 

After everything, he was surprised to find it was actually a relief not to be needed. His purpose had wound down into lethargy, and he lay there, too exhausted and weary of life to do anything but stare at the leaves as they rustled overhead, and listen to the quiet of an empty world. 

The sun inched by, marking the hours of a long afternoon. Dimly, he suspected that he wouldn’t feel so calm when night fell. When the sky grew black and the world shrank around him, the nightmares and the fears would probably come back. But they were far off for now. Nothing could hurt him or help him - he didn’t feel anything except the slightly lumpy ground he lay on, and the gentle breeze across his face, drying his tears.

 

* * *

 

Possibly he slept, or maybe the time was so empty he simply lost track of it, but the afternoon was drawing to a close when a sound brought his senses back, sharp and alert. Footsteps. 

He sat up, shaking his head to dispel a wave of dizziness, and looked around. The shadows had grown long, and the sky overhead was a deeper blue than it had been. The footsteps continued, still faint, but drawing nearer.

“Ken?” a voice called from a short way off.

He froze. That sounded like  _ Hikari _ . But it couldn’t be. Was he still dreaming?

_ “Ken?” _

There, again. Closer this time, as though she were just around the corner. It  _ had  _ to be her, somehow. He scrambled to his feet, not sure what to think or do. Should he greet her? Should he hide? The indecision seized him, locking up his body and mind. There was only room for one thought: _ What is she doing here?  _

“Ken! There you are!” 

She smiled as she rounded the corner and spotted him, resting one hand on a low bit of wall. 

“I thought you might have run away from the cottage,” she said, tipping her head to one side slightly. She sighed. “Takeru ran off a lot.”

Ken nodded, not sure what else to do as the silence stretched out. After a few awkward moments he swallowed heavily, calling moisture into his paper-dry mouth. 

“Wh…why are you here?” he asked. “You should be with the others.”

“They can manage for a few more days,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s not right to just abandon you here by yourself.”

“But they need you.”

Hikari sighed, looking down and plucking at some moss on the wall. “Tailmon isn’t strong enough to help unless she armour evolves at the moment,” she said. “And even then, she’s not as strong as she wants to be. It…it’s a long story, but all that really matters is that it made sense for it to be  _ me  _ who came back, instead of sending someone else. That’s the whole reason Gennai sent me here to help find you in the first place.”

He stared, eyes wide. “You…you came to find  _ me? _ ”

“Ken, we’ve known that  _ something  _ happened for weeks. The story was all over the news. We…” She hung her head. “I’m so sorry, Ken. We doubted you. But you see, Gennai didn’t tell us what you did, so we had no way of knowing. And then, we didn’t pass on the information about you to him until Leafmon found us. When I got here and Takeru said you’d vanished… We let you down. We should have found you sooner.”

He shook his head. “You didn’t need to look for me. I’ve…this is all  _ my  _ fault. All I’ve ever done is hurt people.”

“But that’s not true,” Hikari said, folding her arms. “If it weren’t for you, Takeru wouldn’t have gotten his memory back - Patamon told me the first time Takeru really seemed to remember  _ anything  _ was after you arrived. It was slow to start with, but-”

“He only  _ lost  _ his memory because of me.”

“Ken, where did the seed come from? Because I remember standing in your room as Wormmon told us it made you change. And that seed’s the same thing which hurt Takeru. If it was strong enough to do that, don’t you think it could have been responsible for what happened to you too?”

In a way, it would have been easy to agree with her. Part of him wanted to - to offload the guilt and blame onto that dark, painful thing inside him which he wanted so badly to be rid of. But it would be a lie. Because the truth was, even if the seed  _ had  _ affected his judgement, he’d still made all those choices himself. It had been his hands that had harmed so many. His mind which had embraced the idea of that power so thoroughly. He hadn’t been in the digital world when he’d decided to use the seed to enslave it. And he’d never been as corrupted by it as Takeru was. He’d known what he was doing was wrong long before he ran back to his bedroom. 

“Ken?”

He couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes. “Thank you for offering comfort,” he said, wishing there were some way this excruciating conversation could be over already. “But I don’t… I  _ can’t  _ forgive myself my actions. Please. You don’t need to stay here.”

Hikari cleared her throat. “Um, as it happens…I do. The coma I’m in is artificial, and I told Gennai I’d stay here until you woke up. So, I can’t actually leave until the others rescue you, and someone lets him know you’re safely back in your own body.”

Ken stared at her, horrified. “What? No! You can’t… They won’t… You have to go back!”

She shook her head. “You shouldn’t be alone after everything you’ve gone through.”

“But  _ you’ll  _ be alone!”

“Ken, as soon as you wake up, even if you can’t tell Gennai yourself, one of the others will. And then he’ll know  _ I’m  _ ready to go back too. It worked perfectly with Takeru.”

He shook his head. “No, because-” The words stuck in his throat. He felt his eyes filling with tears again and choked back a sob. When he managed to speak, it was little more than a croak: “I’ll be dead by then.”

Hikari gasped, raising both hands to cover her mouth. “What? But… but you… you just said you were  _ weak _ .”

He nodded. “I am,” he said, voice leaden. The bleak, numbing despair had begun to well up. What could he do, after all? “But Archnemon…the last thing she said was that she would come back and kill me. I…I don’t know what will happen.” His eyes stung. “Maybe I’m dead already.”

“Ken…”

Hikari took a step towards him, and stopped. She shook her head. “You can’t think like that. You have to…have to believe they’ll find you.”

“And if they don’t?”

Her eyes dropped a moment. “Then at least you won’t be alone.”

It was meant kindly. That was the worst part. There was nothing but honesty and sincerity on Hikari’s face as she spoke. He hardly knew her, and she had  _ no  _ reason to like him, and she was being nice all the same. Offering company and comfort. But the only thought which circled round his head was that she hadn’t denied it. 

_ I’m going to die. _

 

* * *

 

He was still alive when the stars came out, and Hikari led him inside the cottage, talking brightly about something or other which he was too shellshocked to really hear. He was still alive when they sat in the kitchen, after Hikari had tidied the sweets away and found some actual fruit for them to eat instead. He was still alive when she washed the dishes she had used - his own food remained on the little table, untouched. 

“Ken,” Hikari said. “You should eat something.”

He blinked, and looked up. She’d sat back down opposite him, arms folded on the table as she leant forward in her seat. The thought of eating had never appealed to him less. What was the point? He poked at the fruit in front of him.

“Ken?”

The words spilled right out without his thinking about them, barely above a whisper:

“I don’t want to die.”

“You’re not  _ going  _ to,” Hikari said firmly, but he could see her hands shaking on the table. “They’ll find you. You…you can’t just give up.”

“Why not?” he said, because after weeks he could finally talk again, and the words needed to be said. “Maybe this is all I deserve, anyway. Maybe things will be better, after-” he stopped talking only because tears had taken over. He didn’t want to die, didn’t want to just stop. Didn’t want to go without ever seeing Leafmon or his family again, but what could he do? And maybe it  _ would  _ be better - for the others at least.

“ _ No! _ ” Hikari cried, slamming her hands down on the table. “No one deserves that! People care about you Ken. Don’t you see? And…and you have a  _ crest _ . You wouldn’t have that if there wasn’t something you needed to do with it. If it wasn’t important. You can’t just give up like this. We…we  _ need  _ your help.”

He stared at her. A crest? What did that have to do with anything? It didn’t change the fact that at any moment, Archnemon could go back and kill him, and he’d be powerless to do anything about it. What proof did he have that it hadn’t happened already? What if he was already just a ghost, with nothing to return to. What if he was trapped here forever?

“I know you’re scared, Ken,” Hikari said. “I…I know it looks bad. But things have been bad before and we’ve always found a way. You have to trust me. Trust the others. Trust  _ Takeru _ , because he take promises very seriously. And he doesn’t give up.”

“He won’t be able to help,” Ken said glumly, picking up a strawberry and then putting it down with a sigh. “He hasn’t moved his real body in three months. The muscles waste away.”

Looking up, he saw Hikari watching him, her face level and calm.

“You haven’t known him as long as I have,” she said. “And you haven’t really seen him at his best, either. He can be quite single-minded.” Sighing, she added. “I think it runs in his family. Yamato’s hardly left Takeru’s side this whole time. ”

Ken flinched. “He…he hates me, doesn’t he.”

“He did,” Hikari said, after a moment. “A lot. Yamato’s always been very protective of Takeru. They… the others were all stranded in the digital world together a few years ago. For - well, it’s complicated, but it was a long time for them. Takeru was the youngest. They all looked after him to a degree, but of course Yamato saw it as his responsibility most of all. Takeru didn’t really  _ need  _ looking after by the time they made it back, but I don’t think Yamato ever fully lost that sense of responsibility for him.”

Ken hung his head. He hadn’t thought there was anything which could distract him from his terror of the future, but apparently he’d been wrong about that too. The moment he thought about what he’d put everyone through, all he could find room for in his head was shame.

“But that was then,” Hikari said. “Now… Well, I’m not sure that he’ll ever  _ like  _ you. But everything that’s happened since… I don’t know that he honestly  _ hates  _ you after all that.”

“I nearly killed Takeru,” Ken said miserably. 

“You risked your own life trying to  _ save  _ him, too. And there was nothing influencing you then. That was all you. Leafmon told us what happened with Archnemon. That you were trying to help.”

“It  _ didn’t  _ help though,” Ken said, pushing his chair back and standing up. He was too exhausted by fear and misery to want think about Leafmon. “I just got my partner killed.”

“Archnemon is a  _ perfect level _ digimon.” Hikari said. “You didn’t know that. You didn’t even know she wasn’t human -  _ we  _ didn’t know she was a digimon at that point either. She could have dragged you into the digital world no matter what you’d said or done. And she probably  _ would  _ have, too. What happened to Leafmon wasn’t your fault, Ken. It was Archnemon’s.” 

He didn’t know what to say. Could she mean it? Really and truly? It didn’t absolve him of the rest of his crimes, but to lose the weight of even that one thing was a gift he hadn’t asked for. 

Hikari covered her mouth to hide a yawn. He blinked, and looked outside, surprised to see that it was pitch dark already. 

“Sorry,” Hikari said, rubbing her eyes. “It’s…it’s been a long few days.”

“What happened?” he asked. He wasn’t really sure he wanted to  _ know _ , in all honesty, but the prospect of trying to sleep was anything but appealing. 

Hikari sighed. “When I got here, you’d vanished. Patamon said he and Takeru searched the house and gardens top to bottom trying to find you. They didn’t know what had happened. And, well, I didn’t have any other ideas, so I suggested we go look out there somewhere.”

She gestured out of the window. Ken shuddered.

“But…it changes,” he said. “I’m not sure why, but the places near the cottage don’t stay the same from day to day.”

“I might have underestimated how quickly that happens,” Hikari said, the ghost of a smile flickering briefly on her face. She rested an elbow on the table and propped her head up with her hand. “We were lost within an hour. We wandered around with practically nothing to eat or drink for two days before Takeru suddenly ran off. I think that must have been the point where most of his memories came back. He’d been having nightmares-”

“I know,” Ken said dully. “He has them a lot. Because of me.”

She faltered, watching him warily from across the table. 

“Ken…”

“I’m going to sit outside.”

“But it’s the middle of the night!”

He sighed. “I don’t think I could sleep in here again anyway. And it’s not cold.”

Ken wasn’t sure he could find words to express the rest of how he felt. His head was a turmoil of emotions—fear and shame and guilt and acceptance, all muddled together and impossible to sort out. One moment his stomach would clench with dread, and the next he would note that there wasn’t much he could do, so where was the purpose in worrying? And then he’d double back and realise that he was thinking quite calmly about something which would cause his parents even  _ more  _ guilt, and moments later the shame would creep back too because, really, wasn’t dying the easy way out?

His feet carried him to the pond without much intervention from his brain, and he sank onto the bench. The not-fish were awake even at this time of night. Part of him wondered if that was a limitation of how they had been created, or if all fish behaved that way. He’d have to find out-

No. He wouldn’t. 

The fear smothered him, so thick he could hardly breathe. The world before him blurred and he couldn’t even tell if it was from tears or if his eyes had just stopped focusing on it all. He heard Hikari call his name; heard her sit beside him and say it again, and again, and it meant nothing. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think past the certainty in his mind that no matter what he did, it was pointless. 

He barely noticed when Hikari got up and moved away. Or when she came back, and draped a blanket around his shoulders. She stayed with him, but he only knew because now and again she would say something. 

He didn’t sleep. He  _ couldn’t  _ sleep, because what if he never woke up?

It was a long night. 

 

* * *

 

The sun rose, warm and bright and clear. The last of the fog had disappeared the day before. Routine pricked at his mind, preparing him for a day’s activities which were impossible. There was no Takeru or Poyomon to play with. No entertaining to do. No nightmares to disturb the dawn. 

But it was light, and the sunshine held a power of its own, warm and comforting. He was alive. Still there, somehow. Archnemon hadn’t come for him. In all honesty, could he  _ really  _ be certain it would happen yet? They…they’d said about making sure the seeds worked, hadn’t they? So they would probably need at least a few days to do that. His fears of the night before seemed…not foolish, but disproportionate. It was easier to think of happier things now that daytime had returned.

He stirred, vaguely aware that at some point he must have dozed, at least lightly. His legs were stiff and his back ached from lack of movement, and as he moved the blanket over his shoulders slipped and he felt the chill of the early morning air - not so warm as the cocoon which surrounded him. 

Ken rubbed his eyes. He was tired—exhausted, really—but the morning had arrived and somehow there was another day ahead for him to get through. He’d already been through what felt like the worst his head could throw at him. Acceptance and optimism seemed easier in their wake.

The implications of the blanket took him a few more minutes to work out. He’d all but forgotten the presence of Hikari, somewhere around the cottage grounds.  At some point in the night she’d stopped talking, and after that she had faded from his mind. Sudden panic welled up—what if she’d left because the others had found him, and it was already too late? 

Tense and anxious, he turned on the bench; too stiff to go straight to standing. Was he alone again? He clutched the blanket close and scrambled to his feet. There was no one else by the pond, but as he turned back to the cottage he saw a huddled shape on the decking by the front door. Even as he watched, there was movement and Hikari emerged from a beneath a large blanket. She sat up, covering a yawn, and smiled apprehensively at him. 

“Did you sleep at all?”

Ken shook his head.

“Well, do you think you could eat something? Gennai told me it was probably better to carry on eating and drinking as we normally would while we’re here.”

He started to shake his head again, but out of nowhere rose an image of Takeru, piling a tray high with snacks and sweets to carry over to their fort. Somehow, he couldn’t imagine the others particularly approving of  _ that  _ diet. He couldn’t help it: the corner of his mouth twitched. 

“Ken?”

He looked away. “It’s nothing important. Just…remembering something.”

“Did you want to talk about it?”

This time his smile lingered, faint but present. “It’s not like that. I was just thinking of how, in all the time I was here, Takeru only ever ate sweets.”

Hikari tried to keep a straight face, but the amusement was clear in her eyes as she got to her feet and rolled up her makeshift bed. “I should probably be more surprised by that than I actually am,” she said. “Taichi mentioned once that when they first arrived in the digital world, Takeru had a whole rucksack full of junk food.”

Ken kept his head down as they walked inside. It was the second time Hikari had referred to those events. 

“I didn’t know anyone else had stayed in the digital world before I did,” he said. If they were going to be inside, he didn’t think he could bear any more silence.

“It was three years ago,” Hikari replied. She looked down at herself. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that this place made us that much younger. These are even the same clothes I had on back then.” Smiling wryly, she added: “I’d forgotten Takeru used to be so short.”

There was something forced about the way she spoke, and the cheerful expression on her face. Ken suspected she was putting on a brave face and trying to distract him. He felt torn between telling her that she didn’t have to pretend, and asking her to keep talking because it was almost working.

They reached the kitchen and Hikari stopped abruptly. She tapped the wall beside the door a few times.

“You don’t like being inside, do you.”

Ken shook his head. “It…this was always Takeru’s place, not mine. It suited him, in a way. But it’s not somewhere I ever belonged.”

Hikari took a breath, as though she were about to say something, then exhaled heavily. “Well would you rather take some food outside? It’s a nice enough day.”

He looked around. Hikari had obviously taken the time at some point in the night to tidy some of the chaos which had presumably been caused by Takeru and Poyomon’s search for him. The door to Takeru’s room was closed. 

“Yes,” he said, swallowing heavily to dislodge the lump in his throat. “I think that would be a good idea.”

 

* * *

 

They ate breakfast outside the walls of the cottage, on a small hill overlooking endless sands. Ken wasn’t sure if the world was trying to tell him something, or if it had simply lost the ability to generate anything more than that with the absence of Takeru. The meal was a silent affair, and the little food he ate was mostly to ease Hikari’s concerns. 

“Well, we should probably think of something to do,” she said eventually. “It would do you some good to try and take your mind off things.”

Ken nodded, although he didn’t move. It was hard to work up the enthusiasm for anything. The emptiness was better than fear, but not by much.

“Do you think they’ll find me?”

“I know they will,” Hikari replied, getting to her feet. She held out her hand. “We’ve faced impossible odds before, you know. Don’t give up.”

He stared at her hand for a long while before accepting it. Part of him kept waiting for an angry comment but- No. She hadn’t ever seemed angry at him, even when he’d deserved it. Horrified at his actions - and justifiably so - yes. Devastated by the loss of her friend, too. But angry? Not once.

“How can you stand to help me?” he asked, as they walked back through the gateway. 

Hikari sighed. “It wasn’t easy, at first. We - none of us thought that well of you. We didn’t understand, and I guess it was easier to just blame you than to think about what could have made you act like that. Even knowing about the seed… Takeru looked a lot more affected by it, and we all knew what sort of person he really was. Is. None of us knew you at all.”

“I’m not sure I know me,” Ken said glumly. “I don’t remember it very well but I think…” He sighed, looking down at himself. “I remember being in the digital world, wearing these clothes. Wormmon was there. And I know I must have had the seed after that because-”

“Because?”

He froze, blinking back tears. What could he say? So much of it was a blur, one he desperately wanted to bury in his mind. Could he really admit his fears to Hikari? Tell her that, after all her help, he was afraid that he’d caused the death of his own brother, and couldn’t even remember?

The answer came to him after a moment.

“Gennai said the seed was a virus,” he said, voice strained. “Digital. It…it can’t have come from anywhere else. I must have had it inside me all this time.”

He hated himself for the omission in his story. Hated his cowardice. But there were some things he knew he would have to carry alone in his heart forever.


	14. Moment of Truth

Hikari was a very different companion to Takeru. Not just because her memory was intact, although Ken knew that he should count it as part of the difference. There was no way that Takeru would have behaved as he had if he’d known who they both were. 

Still, even after his memories had returned, Takeru’s attitude was different to Hikari’s. There was an underlying cheer and optimism about him, despite everything that had happened. Thinking about it made Ken’s stomach lurch. Knowing more about the person Takeru  _ really  _ was only made the contrast with his altered self worse. 

Hikari, though…she was quiet, and calm. The cottage seemed different with her there, as the day rolled slowly by. With Takeru, he’d been swept up in games and laughter, forgetting his fears and shame amid endless quests to do more, see more. Climb higher, run faster. He’d lost track of time in imaginary worlds, and been exhausted enough by each day’s activities that he had usually fallen asleep without all that much difficulty.

Now the garden was quiet and tranquil. Not silent - there was something comforting about the presence of another person, which seemed to take the edge off even when neither of them spoke. But there were no games. There was no laughter. Instead, as they walked around outside Hikari told him about some of the other Chosen Children’s prior adventures: about being stranded in the digital world with no way home, and how they’d all been forced to work together. About how she’d missed most of it due to a cold, and that the others hadn’t even realised she was a Chosen Child at first. 

He listened, partly because there was nothing else to do, and partly because focusing on someone else’s words quieted the ones in his own mind. She left a lot out - he could tell as much by the stop-start nature of her tale, and the occasional backtrack where she had to explain one thing to give sense to another. But out of it, a picture grew of children thrown together by circumstance and danger, forged into exactly the team he had seen all those months before, when Taichi had ordered them to leave the collapsing base and they had responded instinctively. Even when the threat had come from one of their own. 

“When did you become a Chosen Child, Ken?” Hikari asked suddenly. 

He flinched. “I…I don’t remember everything,” he said. “But, I—I know I was nine.”

She frowned. “And you’re in the same school year as us, so… it can’t have been much more than a year after… We know of a few other Chosen Children around the world, you see. Koushiro is trying to see if there’s a pattern. So far, they were all Chosen last year at the earliest. But you… you must have got your D3 before that.”

“Does that matter?” he asked, feeling the faint flutters of worry stir once more in his gut.

“I don’t know,” she replied with a sigh. “It’s Koushiro who has all the theories. But my brother’s said - for  _ years _ , now - that Koushiro understands the digital world better than he understands people. So it has to mean  _ something _ . You were on your own for so long. And Gennai never said  _ anything  _ about there being a ninth crest when we gave ours up. None of the other new Chosen have one.”

He wasn’t sure he liked being an anomaly. Too late and isolated— _ and evil and terrible and horrible and shameful _ —to be part of the original team, and too different to be part of the “new” team. In his mind, he knew there was a time when he would have felt intense satisfaction to know that Daisuke, Miyako and Iori hadn’t become Chosen Children until long after he had. Now he wasn’t sure he felt like one at all. Certainly he didn’t deserve the title, or the crest he supposedly had. 

Ken didn’t ask what his represented. Learning that Takeru’s was Hope had been bad enough. 

The day came to a close with a clear, beautiful sunset. He’d never sat and watched one before - with Takeru, the day’s activities had always preoccupied his mind, and he hadn’t noticed the time at all. Now he wished he had watched more. With Takeru, time hadn’t seemed to matter at all, and now every moment felt precious. How many more sunsets would he get to see? 

He felt a burning need to see things,  _ do  _ things. As the sky grew darker his anxiety grew. The shadows stretching away behind them seemed to loom as they grew, biding their time. Thoughts which he had buried during the day rose up once more and he shuddered, trying to force them from his mind. Happier thoughts, happier thoughts. Where were they? Why did he have so few?

He’d wasted so much time with his partner. Squandered it as the Kaiser, as a puppet blind to the existence of the strings which manipulated him. It was something of an irony that, when he tried to think of something positive, his thoughts went to Takeru and Poyomon instead. To the month or so where he’d been their anonymous companion. Because despite that, he’d been  _ himself _ , free of the seed and the guilt, and the hard to define but ever-present burden of having lived when his brother had died. 

It was odd. He hadn’t noticed before. Hadn’t felt the weight until it had lifted and left him free to be just Ken, although in the end, his identity hardly seemed important at all. But now, when the chances were that it mattered less than ever, there was a certain peace in knowing that some of his happiest moments came from a time when he had - intentionally or not - helped Takeru in some indefinable way. It didn’t absolve him of the guilt, but it was something to set against it. 

The sun dipped below the horizon and the shadows enveloped him. He sighed. It wasn’t enough, really. But it was a bit late to be worrying about that. If Takeru and the others  _ did  _ find him in time, he would dedicate his whole life to atoning for the past. If they didn’t…

_ Then at least I did  _ something  _ right, before the end. _

 

* * *

 

It was strange how time could manage to stretch out forever and simultaneously fly past. Somehow, days and nights went by, and he was still there to see them. 

On the second day, he forced himself to show Hikari some of the places in the gardens where he and Takeru had spent their time, and worked up the courage to wander inside the house and explain how the fort had come to be. They retreated outside after a while, and he told her what he could manage to say about his week back in the real world.

On the third, the lake returned. He spent the day wandering back and forth along the shore, while Hikari sat and gave him space. It felt a little like saying goodbye. Somehow he had the feeling that he’d never see the place again. One way or another, he probably wouldn’t. 

That Hikari was more distant than Takeru had been wasn’t a surprise. The fact that she had elected to keep him company at  _ all  _ was more than he could have asked for. And it helped, in a way. To act as though everything was fine was more than he could have managed. If Takeru had been there, he would have felt obliged to keep his fears to himself. With Hikari, he felt free to be honest—about  _ some  _ things at least.

“I can’t remember Leafmon’s voice,” he said as they walked back to the cottage. “I can see him in my mind, but I can’t hear him any more. I…I wish I’d had more time with him.”

Hikari was silent for a while. “I’m sorry he’s not here,” she said eventually. “Gennai thought it was too dangerous, after everything that happened.”

He nodded. “It’s okay. I mean, maybe…maybe I  _ will  _ get to see him again, right?”

“Ken, I’m sure…” 

The silence stretched out.

“You don’t  _ know _ , do you,” he said at last. 

The expression on Hikari’s face was answer enough. 

He looked away, up at the darkening sky. “I…it’s my fault, really it is. I shouldn’t have hidden from Gennai. I spent too long running away, when I should have been trying to help fix things. I know that now.” He smiled weakly, trying to mask the tears he could feel prickling at the corners of his eyes. “At-at least I worked it out  _ eventually _ , right?”

She didn’t answer straight away. For a while he thought she wasn’t going to say anything at all - she certainly didn’t need to. He’d got himself into this mess, and having someone to talk to as it all unravelled around him was more than he really felt he deserved anyway. 

When she did speak, her voice was soft and hesitant: “I’m sorry, Ken. It’s our fault as much as yours. We…we left you to get on with everything all by yourself. We never even thought to  _ check _ , and make sure you were okay. If we had, perhaps all this wouldn’t have happened. We wouldn’t be sitting here just  _ waiting  _ like this. We wouldn’t be here at all.”

Ken frowned. “But Takeru would. I think he needed someone  _ real  _ to talk to. And…and I know I wasn’t the right person, but that didn’t matter in the end because I was the  _ only  _ person. You all...you had to hold Archnemon off. Maybe this is just how things had to be.”

They walked the rest of the way back to the cottage in silence. On the far side of the grounds, the sun dipped lower, seeming to sink into the building itself. The sky was a riot of gold and blue and orange. A beautiful evening. Perhaps he’d venture inside the cottage tonight, and make his peace with-

He staggered as a sudden wave of lethargy washed over him, almost falling. Hikari shrieked and grabbed his arm.

“Ken, are you okay? What’s wrong?”

It eased, slowly, and he straightened. Shaking his head he said: 

“—”

The panic set in quickly as he realised he couldn’t speak. What was going on? One hand went to his throat and his eyes widened. Was this-?

_ Pain _ . 

Pain everywhere. It started abruptly out of nowhere, and he fell to his knees, dragging Hikari down with him. He scarcely noticed her by his side as he clutched at his head and the world swam. Each breath got harder to take. He could hear Hikari’s frantic cries as the world went dark - but they faded fast, along with everything but the cold, burning pain and a deep cramp in his stomach. 

He felt  _ heavy _ . Heavy and solid, and the roar of his racing heartbeat drummed a tattoo in his ears. He couldn’t move - it was almost more than he could do to keep his chest rising and falling. Everything was hard, and loud, and  _ hurt _ . Agony wound around him like a vice, cutting into his skin. 

The world was dark - almost black, and it took him a moment to realise it was because his eyes were closed and heavy, too stubborn to open by themselves. A rush of sounds roared around him and instincts kicked in, forcing his eyelids apart to reveal Archnemon, looming above him in spider form.  

One huge, clawed hand reached down and grasped him by the shoulder, hoisting him effortlessly from the ground. He hung limply, too weak to even hold his head upright, and saw the edge of the rock face ahead. Saw the dark green of the twilit forest below. Saw it get closer.

_ I’m going to die. _

The world blurred. Not with tears—he had nothing left to cry  _ with _ —his eyes simply slid out of focus. His pulse hammered at his ears, the sound merging into one continuous roar. 

Too much. Too hard. Too painful. Too terrifying. He felt himself slipping away, losing his hold on consciousness. Sparks danced and flashed before him and a yawning nausea sucked him in. 

With an explosion of sound the world, already grey at the edges, span. Ken hit his head on something hard and drifted, borne aloft by the sudden pain. His vision cleared to reveal a rocky ground, side on. Beside it - no,  _ above  _ it - rose a figure borne aloft by white wings. An angel?

_ Oh. Did I die already?  _ he thought dully.  _ But it still hurts. And…and I didn’t say goodbye. _

The sky—he thought it was the sky—lit up with fire. The air filled with a cacophony which shuddered through his body, shaking the very ground beneath him. Why wouldn’t it stop? It went on and on, loud and terrifying and hot and cold, battering his senses and overwhelming him entirely. An inhuman voice screeched overhead, and a blur of movement in front of him caught his attention.

He blinked slowly, and tried to make his eyes work properly. They refused to focus past the pain in his head, but he thought he saw figures quickly getting closer. One carried a green blob which leapt towards him. It almost looked like… 

“ _ Leafmon? _ ” he said, his voice a thin whisper. 

It  _ was _ . It was Leafmon, close enough now that he couldn’t mistake the shape of his partner even though he could barely see. Why now? It was too late, wasn’t it? He didn’t  _ want  _ to die, but he was too tired to keep going any longer. No. There was time enough to make things right. Closing his eyes, he drew as much of a breath as he could manage. 

“Leafmon, I…I’m sorry. I never…”

 

* * *

 

There was a bright light somewhere. His eyes flickered open, and then closed tightly. It was  _ too  _ bright, especially with the headache he had. He tried to turn away, and winced. Moving hurt; a sharp pain on the side of his head. But there was no noise, not even the rustling of leaves, or grass. 

Ken risked it, and opened one eye a fraction. He was inside, and the ceiling was close enough that it didn’t seem as though he were on the floor.  _ That  _ was disorienting enough to make him try and sit up.

He couldn’t. Every muscle in his body protested at the attempt, and he settled for gritting his teeth and turning his head in the opposite direction than the one he had already tried. The view wasn’t all that helpful - a blank wall, and an empty chair. It didn’t make sense. What was going on?

Everything in his head was still disorganised, but he was reasonably sure that his last memory was…was  _ Leafmon _ , there with him on the rock ledge. But Archnemon had been there too, so why hadn’t she killed him? He was pretty sure he was alive - if he were dead, he wouldn’t have a body left with which to feel so many aches and pains.

A few more breaths helped him collect his senses better, and take stock. He felt stiff and sore, but that was no different to when he had awoken in the real world, to a body out of the habit of moving. His throat was dry, but not unbearably so. By rights, he should feel  _ worse _ . He didn’t even feel especially hungry, and when was the last time he’d eaten anything real?

The lack of answers was almost unbearable, but he forced himself to be patient. After all, there was still a strong chance he was in deep trouble. Wouldn’t it be best to put whatever time he had to good use?

He closed his eyes, trying to stay calm. Whatever was going on, he needed to be ready. That meant seeing what he was capable of doing. He’d pulled himself back before, hadn’t he? He could do it again. 

Slowly and methodically, he set about waking his body up the way he had as Archnemon’s prisoner. It was tiring, but not impossible, and it gave him a better sense of his own strength. With it, he was able to shift and roll onto his side, then use the leverage of his arms to sit up.

His head swam, and he desperately wanted to lay back down, but he forced himself to wait out the dizziness. It would settle. It  _ had  _ to settle. And the vantage point was good - he could see all of the room now. It looked familiar, although he couldn’t quite place why. Aside from the chair, and the bed he sat upon, there was little else. A couple of vaguely medical-looking machines, and a door. It was all very plain, like a hospital room but at the same time not. Didn’t those places have special lights, and ways to call a doctor or nurse? 

Ken shifted, wondering if he was simply looking in the wrong place. He shuffled around to look behind him and gasped.

There was a… It was…

It wasn’t Leafmon, wasn’t Wormmon, but somehow Ken knew instinctively that it was his partner, tucked into the top corner of the bed, on side he’d been unable to look at. If his head hadn’t been too sore he would have spotted the little digimon sooner. 

His heart seemed to have leapt into his mouth. It was all he could do to remain upright, and watch the sleeping form of his partner. His eyes stung. 

He choked back a sob of relief and the little digimon stirred. It opened its eyes and yawned, blinking a few times before spotting him.

“You’re awake!”

He nodded, too overcome for words. 

“I’m glad you’re safe, Ken. We were really worried about you. You didn’t even wake up when I evolved into Minomon!”

_ Safe. I’m safe? _

His partner hopped over and he held out his arms, scooping the small, warm body up in a tight hug. The pricking in his eyes gave way to tears. 

“I thought… I thought I’d lost you forever,” he said, not caring that his voice was raspy and hoarse. 

Minomon looked up at him, shaking his head.

“I may be small, but I can be very tenacious. And…and brave, too. I tried hard to be strong enough, Ken.”

It was too much. For a few minutes he just sobbed, clutching his partner close. He never wanted to let go.

“You’ve  _ always  _ been strong enough,” he murmured, when he found his voice once more. “And…and you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. I…I’m so sorry for leaving you behind. I never wanted to. I never should have put you in danger like that.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Ken,” Minomon replied. “It was Archnemon. But she can’t find us here.”

“Where  _ is  _ here?” he said, looking around at the room. Why did it look so familiar?

“This is Gennai’s house. Don’t you remember?”

The recognition hit at roughly the same time as his confusion. Of  _ course _ . This was the room where they had taken Takeru, except that the probably-not-glass wall was missing. But if that was the case, where had Takeru gone? It hadn’t been  _ that  _ long since Takeru had woken up, and he’d been unconscious for three months. It had taken days before Ken was strong enough to sit, let alone walk around. Had he been sent back to the human world?

“Minomon, how…how did I get here?”

“We rescued you! Everyone looked really hard. It wasn’t easy, but Koushiro found the gate Archnemon used, and then we got there just in time. I think Archnemon was trying to take you back to the real world again, but the others stopped her!”

It all seemed impossible, but Ken didn’t dare contradict his partner. He clung to Minomon, getting used to the unfamiliar weight and shape of him. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t quite shake the thought that this could all be some terrible mistake, and that at any minute it would fall apart. After all, the last thing he remembered was being sure he was either dying, or dead already. 

The one thing he could be certain of was that if this  _ was  _ a dream, he didn’t want to wake up. If this was how he could be reunited with Minomon, he would gladly sleep forever.

 

* * *

 

There was a soft click, and the door opened. Ken looked around sharply, and instantly regretted it as a wave of dizziness and nausea washed over him. He clutched at his head and hunched forward, trying to stay upright. The blow to his head had to have been pretty hard, that much was certain. 

“Are you okay?”

_ That  _ caught his attention. He looked up and stared at the person leaning against the doorframe, not sure if he could believe his eyes. “Takeru?”

“In the…well, not actually  _ flesh  _ yet. I guess we’re still data here. But real, all the same. You scared everyone, you know.”

“I did?”

Takeru gestured at the chair. “Mind if I come in and sit down? I, er…I’m not really meant to be walking around.”

“I…of course. But-”

“Don’t say a word to Yamato about this though, okay? I told him I was going to rest.”

Ken nodded, although he couldn’t think of a single situation in which he would ever willingly confront Yamato about  _ anything _ . He watched as Takeru lurched unsteadily across the room, then sank heavily into the chair with a groan.

“Apparently being in a coma for three months really isn’t that good for you,” Takeru said, smiling as though nothing was wrong. The expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

Ken looked away, down at Minomon. His partner stared back up at him, and nudged against his chest.

“I’m sorry. This is all my fault,” he mumbled.

“That’s what you said before,” Takeru said. “And the more I hear about what happened, the less I believe it. You know, if-” He faltered, and cleared his throat. “If I’m ever going to believe that the things I did weren’t  _ me _ —that it was some kind of evil alter-ego which I’m not responsible for—that has to mean it wasn’t really you, either. And…and I’m pretty sure the Digimon Kaiser wasn’t the kind of person who would willingly spend over a month keeping an amnesiac company. Or who’d stand up to a perfect-level digimon— _ alone _ —to try and protect his partner. And he sure as anything wouldn’t have volunteered to test a rushed out antivirus, just to make sure it wasn’t going to hurt someone else.”

Ken didn’t know what to say. What  _ could  _ he say? You could make anything sound like a good deed without the proper context. The silence deepened, growing awkward.

“Does it work?” he managed at last, looking up. 

Blue eyes met his. “ _ What? _ ”

“Telling yourself it was someone else.”

“Oh.” Takeru looked away. “No. Not yet. But I’ve only been trying for a few days, so…maybe  _ someday  _ I’ll actually believe it. Optimism is sort of my thing, you know?”

Optimism. Hope. Yes, he did know that. It gave a lot of sense to everything, including Gennai’s comment—all those months before—about the severity of losing  _ Takeru’s  _ crest in particular. He couldn’t have picked a worse person to kidnap if he’d tried. Ken hung his head as shame and relief mingled in his thoughts: shame at his actions, and unending relief that Takeru had emerged from that other world more or less intact.

“So.” 

Ken looked up as Takeru spoke, and was surprised at how serious the other boy’s expression had become.

“Why didn’t you tell us how bad things were?” Takeru asked.

“I’m not sure-”

“Ken, you nearly died. When we got there-” Takeru grimaced. “For a minute I thought you  _ were  _ dead. Why didn’t you tell someone sooner? You said you were  _ weak _ , not...not  _ starving  _ to death!”

There wasn’t an answer he could give to that. What was he supposed to say? He fumbled for words, knowing that Takeru was stubborn enough to want to hear  _ something _ .

“I…I didn’t want to burden you with that. It wouldn’t have made any difference anyway, and-”

“Of  _ course  _ it would have made a difference!” Takeru cried. “Ken…if we’d been even…Archnemon was already  _ there  _ when we found you! We’d even called off the search for the day when Leafmon recognised where we were. We only carried on as a last-minute decision. We…we almost let you  _ die! _ ”

Ken gaped, taken aback by the intensity of Takeru’s outburst. He was about to make an attempt at a reply when the door swung open once more to reveal Hikari, stood there with Tailmon at her side. Patamon flew into the room and landed on Takeru’s lap. Hikari smiled gently at him, then muttered something to Tailmon and walked out of sight. 

“You told Yamato you were going to rest, Takeru,” the little digimon said crossly. “Stop shouting at Ken.”

“I never thought I’d agree with that sentiment, but Patamon’s right,” Tailmon added, folding her arms. “He can’t have been awake long. You  _ both  _ ought to be resting.”

Ken stared at Tailmon, taken aback. It was one thing for Patamon to defend him - despite everything, he’d gotten to know the little digimon fairly well in the other world. But Tailmon was another matter entirely. The only times he’d seen her since returning to the real world had been during the assault on his base, and, briefly, during his trip to retrieve Leafmon. 

“It’s okay,” he found himself saying, ducking his head. “I did cause a lot of problems. He has a right to be angry.”

He could  _ feel  _ the others watching him. Why didn’t they say something? The silence was almost unbearable, but he didn’t have the courage to look up. Already he regretted opening his mouth. If he’d just kept quiet…”

“ _ Ahem _ .”

Ken risked a look, and saw Gennai standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable. 

“Takeru, I believe you were instructed to  _ rest _ , by persons with a great interest in your recovery. Now, please. I would like a moment to speak with Ken.”

Takeru sighed, and got to his feet. Ken watched as he made his way to the door, where Hikari waited. 

“Traitor,” the boy muttered, but he accepted Hikari’s outstretched arm as he left the room. Patamon and Tailmon followed.

Gennai closed the door in their wake, shaking his head. Ken was surprised to see that he was smiling. 

“One of the more unexpected results of Takeru’s experience,” Gennai said, sighing. “I suspect it is only temporary, but there is a lingering…rebelliousness about Takeru at present. Fortunately, thus far it has proven invaluable. Certainly it was instrumental in Takeru’s decision to continue searching for you.”

Ken shifted uncomfortably, and looked away. It had seemed less personal to hear Takeru ranting, but Gennai’s words brought home the truth: after everything, after all he had put everyone through, they had saved his life. And Takeru—of all people—had been the one responsible for finding him. The weight of it hung like a millstone around his neck. 

“Now then, I do believe you are owed a few explanations, Ken, and an apology of my own.”

Ken looked up, startled. 

“An  _ apology? _ ” he said, sure he must have misheard.

“Indeed. When I accepted your aid in testing the anti-virus, I will confess that my intention was simply to offer you a level of protection against its return. It didn’t occur to me that it would also provide you with access to the world I had set aside for Takeru’s recovery. Knowledgeable as I am, the digital world and its neighbours still hold many mysteries.” 

Gennai sighed, and shook his head. “When Takeru mentioned that he had encountered a new friend, I simply assumed that either he had been interacting more with one of the copies I created, or that the world itself had generated a companion based on memories he had regained. I am sorry, Ken. Had I not been so focused on trying to hasten Takeru’s recovery, I might have considered the implications and found you sooner.”

In a way, it would have been easier if Gennai had been angry. He would have understood that. He’d already made his peace with the idea, in fact. The notion that even  _ Gennai  _ wanted to apologise for what was happening…he didn’t know quite what to think. What to do, or say, or-

“And this leads us onto the matter of  _ your  _ recovery,” Gennai said. “Takeru has been able to regain a considerable amount of his former strength, which in part I would attribute to the nature of the digital world and the forms you take here. But Hikari tells me that you have already returned once to the human world during your ordeal.”

Ken nodded, and looked down at Minomon. He didn’t want to be talking about this. Didn’t want to be thinking about it, either. Really, if he allowed himself to be selfish, all he really wanted was for everyone to leave him alone. But that was selfish. He’d been back - the information would probably be useful in helping Takeru. 

“Yes,” he said softly. “I…I’m not sure how I got into or out of the place with Takeru, but when I was back in the human world I couldn’t reach it. I…I was…” He stopped, and took a deep breath to calm his nerves.  _ You can do this _ , he told himself.  _ You have to do this _ . 

“I couldn’t really move, at first. I think that, uh, the seed- it woke up. The anti-virus didn’t work. I’m sorry. It came back, and it…I think I let it take over for a while. It was easier. I didn’t care about anything but getting strong that way. But I stopped. I  _ did  _ stop it. I tried to…to…starve it out again, but it was too late.”

Gennai didn’t reply. When Ken worked up the nerve to look and see what his reaction was, he was surprised to see that Gennai had in fact turned away to fiddle with a panel on the wall. It looked identical to any of the others beside it right up until the moment it swung open to reveal a small cupboard set into the wall. 

“Ken, might I take a look at this seed?”

_ No _ , Ken thought.  _ Please don’t make me do this. _ The back of his neck prickled uncomfortably. It was all he could do not to shuffle back on the bed so that he could put more distance between himself and Gennai. He didn’t want  _ anyone  _ to look at the seed. Didn’t want to feel that spike of pain, or know how badly he’d screwed up.

“Yes,” he said, and clutched Minomon tightly. 

 

* * *

 

It was only after Gennai had examined the back of his neck, and then run a scanner of some sort over the spot on his arm where he’d been given the antivirus, that he remembered the first time Gennai had looked at it. 

_ Takeru had still been grey and inhuman, stalking back and forth on the far side of the barrier. Screaming protests which couldn’t be heard and upturning everything. The bed, the machines, and then he’d stood there and fixed Ken with an expression of such loathing and ill will that Ken had looked away. The scanner Gennai held resembled the one he had used to implant the seed within Takeru, but the process hadn’t hurt at all. _

_ “I am looking only,” Gennai had said. “The advantage of a data-based virus is that looking is sufficient. I gather from Jou that matters are substantially more complicated in the human world.” _

_ Takeru had not moved for the rest of the time he’d been in the room. He’d stood there, motionless, with his eyes fixed on Ken. When Gennai had told him he could leave, Ken had walked to the door and taken one last look back. Takeru hadn’t so much as blinked as he’d mouthed the words: “You. Are. Dead.” _

Ken rubbed the tiny scar on his arm where the antivirus had entered his system. It had left a square mark, not a round one, although he wasn’t quite sure how. Idly he wondered if it would still feel real when he went home. 

_ Home _ . 

Once started, the flood of thoughts wouldn’t stop. He’d almost died. He’d almost left his parents without any children at all. Almost lost his chance to thank them for raising him and caring for him, and to apologise for everything he had done wrong. For every worry he had caused. He wanted to go home. Wanted his mother to wrap her arms around him and promise him it would all be okay, and he wanted it all the more because deep in his gut he knew he couldn’t. If he went home, Archnemon would find out where he was. Minomon had said Gennai’s house was safe and it was, but only because it was hidden beneath a lake. 

_ I’m just as trapped here as I was in that other place, he thought gloomily. Until we stop Archnemon and that man she’s working for, I can’t go home at all.  _


	15. Interlude

Sleeping was impossible, but he tried anyway. His body was tired; exhausted after too long without movement or sustenance. It needed rest, even if his mind didn’t want to stop and let it. 

He lay awake in the dark, too exhausted to get up and turn the light on. Minomon dozed in his arms. 

Somewhere outside, it was the middle of the night, and the knowledge of that filled him with a sudden urge to stand out there and see the stars. To sit out in the fresh air and await the dawn. How many times had he watched the sun rise over the last couple of months? Certainly it was more than he ever had in his life beforehand. 

_ But I can’t, _ he thought.  _ There’s a whole lake above me right now, and that’s even if I could walk as far as the door. I’m not even sure I could stand up. _

Of course, once that thought had occurred to him, it wouldn’t leave, either.  _ Could  _ he stand up? Gennai had seemed to think that he would recover much faster in the digital world than the human one. Something about his body being data instead of flesh and blood. And, while he  _ was  _ exhausted, he’d certainly felt worse. He already felt better than he had in that room. 

Mind made up, he eased his arm out from underneath Minomon, wincing as the little digimon stirred in his sleep. Minomon needed to rest. He’d spent far too long wandering through Tokyo, eating whatever scraps he could find. If they ever made it back home, Ken was fully prepared to give his partner every sweet treat he could think of. 

It was no easier sitting up than it had been before, but the dizziness didn’t seem to last as long. That was a good sign, surely. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and took a deep breath, ignoring the little voice which told him this was a terrible idea. The sooner he was walking, the sooner he would stop being a burden to the others, after all.  

The bed was of the hospital ilk, too tall for his feet to reach the ground from a sitting position. Ken leant forward a little, and looked at the floor. His feet weren’t  _ that  _ far off. Bracing himself, he slid forward, clutching the side of the bed with one hand.

For a moment, it worked. His knees locked and although his head span, he remained upright. Then he tried to straighten up, and felt the tension go right out of his legs. They folded up beneath him like so much paper, depositing him on the floor with a startled yelp.

“Curses,” he muttered. Now what?

“Ken?”

Ah. Of course. 

“It’s okay, Minomon. I just… I couldn’t sleep and I got a little ahead of myself.”

He looked up, and saw Minomon peer over the edge of the bed. 

“Shouldn’t you be asleep, Ken? Gennai said you need to rest.”

He sighed. “I know. I…I couldn’t sleep. Normally I’d go for a walk, but I can’t here. I didn’t think I was  _ this  _ weak though. I just wanted to…to  _ stand up. _ ”

Minomon hopped down and sat beside him. “You’ll get strong again. You just need to rest now, like Gennai said. Come on!”

Ken looked up at the mattress, then back down at his partner, and closed his eyes. “I’m reasonably sure that I won’t be able to get back up onto that bed, Minomon.” He rubbed his arm. “I used to be a star athlete, and now look at me. They still expect me to be able to  _ help _ , Minomon. But what can I do? I can’t even do  _ this _ . What good am I when I can’t even stand up by myself?”

Minomon nudged at his leg. “But you’re not by yourself, Ken. You have lots of friends to help you. Remember?”

He winced, and looked away from his partner while he blinked back tears. “That…that was just a pretence, Minomon. So my mother wouldn’t wonder why I had so many visitors.”

They sat in silence for a few more minutes. Exhaustion dragged at his bones but his mind wouldn’t slow down. His thoughts were a turmoil of fears and worries and memories, made worse by the cold floor beneath him, and the metal frame of the bed at his back. In his mind, the world shifted and changed until he was sat on the rock face once more. He shuddered. 

The world returned to normal and he looked back up at the mattress. No, he wasn’t going to just give up. Honestly, it wasn’t a mountain to climb, or a city to cross on foot. If Minomon could manage to get all the way to Odaiba as Leafmon, he could stand up. 

The first attempt went poorly. He managed to get his legs beneath him, but when he reached up and  _ pulled _ , nothing happened. It was as though his arms were made of straw. For his second attempt, he started from a kneeling position, easing himself upright gradually to let the world settle. He pushed up with his legs at the same time as he grabbed the mattress with his arms, and rose a few centimetres before his knees buckled once more and deposited him onto the ground with a thump. 

“Are you okay?” Minomon asked, hopping into Ken’s lap. 

“I’m fine,” he replied. “Maybe I’ll just…sleep down here.” 

There was a muffled  _ thump  _ from outside the door, and the sound of Takeru muttering something. Ken looked up, alarmed, as the door opened to reveal the boy in question, rubbing his shoulder.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Takeru said, walking into the room and leaning against the wall. 

Ken hung his head.

“It’s odd, being back,” Takeru went on. “Sometimes…sometimes I catch myself wondering if it wasn’t easier when I didn’t remember anything. None of the others understand. They…they’re just happy I’m back—in more than one sense—and they think I’m just going to slot back into my life like nothing happened. But I don’t think I  _ can _ .”

“I’m sorry,” Ken said, clutching at Minomon and trying to hold back tears of shame. “I wish I’d never-”

“Patamon died.”

He stared at Takeru, feeling any and all words vanish from his mind. Takeru stared back, but his eyes were fixed on a point somewhere in the distance, as though he could see straight through the wall.

“I know Hikari told you one of us lost our partner. Well, it was me. It happened when we were lost in the digital world. The first time he evolved to adult, he sacrificed himself to save us. And, I mean, he came back, but…I still get nightmares sometimes. It’s not the sort of thing which you can forget, right?”

Ken shook his head. His mouth felt paper dry. Why was Takeru telling him this?

“And then, a few months later, I told Tokomon to leave. We had a big argument and I threw away my digivice, and my tag and crest. I…I abandoned him. If it hadn’t been for Taichi, I might never have patched things up with him. You’re not the only person who’s made mistakes, Ken.”

“But you never…I…”

“Ken, whatever happened, you’ve more than proved you’re not that person any more. And by the sounds of it, we’re going to need you, to help those other children. We’re the only people who have any idea what they’re going to feel like. And…and I know what it feels like to lose your partner. How lost and alone it leaves you. How hard it is. You need friends, to help you. And, well, I can’t speak for the others, but after all the time we spent in that other place, I know  _ I  _ consider you a friend.”

Ken was crying. He realised it, idly, but it didn’t seem to really matter. His mind was a mess of emotion, not sure whether he should feel ashamed of his actions, or shocked by Takeru’s story, or if he had the right to acknowledge that he really  _ didn’t  _ want to be alone any more. 

Takeru cleared his throat. “You can’t get back onto the bed, can you.”

The panic shifted, fading into embarrassment. Ken looked firmly at his partner as he shook his head, too mortified for words. 

“Wait there.” 

Takeru lurched off, and returned a few minutes later with a heap of bedding and a drowsy-looking Patamon perched on his head. He staggered across the room and leant on the bed, dumping the pile on the ground. 

“Yamato kept me company, my first nights back,” he said, sinking to the floor with apparent relief. “It helped. So, I figure you might want some company too. Just drag the pillow down and sleep here on the floor. You’re part of the team now. And it doesn’t seem right to be stuck in the digital world without spending the night sleeping on the floor with a friend or two.”

Ken wasn’t entirely sure he understood what Takeru meant by that. But as they lay there, with their partners already asleep in between them, Ken realised he really did feel safe after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooooooly shit, this is the end! Well, not the end of Renascent. There is still a rather substantial arc to come, of course. However, this _does_ mark the end of my contribution to the Digimon Adventure Bang 2016. For anyone and everyone who has read along so far, thank you SO MUCH. Honestly, I was worried about the reception to this story because I've never written so much in so short a time without the comfort of being able to edit it to death. What you've read has had a few minor edits at most, so please don't hate me for any continuity errors. (In fact, please point them out so I can fix them!) I have been utterly taken aback by how well it has been received, and I am enormously grateful for everyone's support.
> 
> Participating in this challenge has been amazing. Thank you ever so much to the mods who have run it, and the other writers and artists who have participated. It's been a heck of a ride.
> 
> And now, I think I'm going to take a few days off writing so my brain can recover. I look forward getting back to a more sensible update schedule with my other fics - look out for a Hope's Fire or Metanoia update soon! Renascent will enter the rota as soon as I can face looking at it again. I might need a couple of weeks.


End file.
